


Where the Body Burns

by ElmiDol



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternates between Your PoV and Kylo’s, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, F/M, Finger Fucking, Glove Kink, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Inappropriate use of a Lightsaber, Kylo is not always nice, Lightsaber injuries, Plot, Sassy Reader, Smut, TIE Pilot Reader, Training with the KoR, Two hedonists coming together, boot kink, dubcon, helmet kink, spoilers for the Rise of Kylo Ren comics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25492669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: You could fly through space at a breakneck speed and with no safety net in your TIE fighter, but it was far more dangerous to have your feet planted firmly on the ground as a Force locked around you like a harness.And then you were assigned to his direct command.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader
Comments: 68
Kudos: 96





	1. Spacedust

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fix Your Attitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5961706) by [kassanovella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassanovella/pseuds/kassanovella). 
  * Inspired by [Keeping Your Promise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268310) by [MJRen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJRen/pseuds/MJRen). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first personal encounter with Commander Kylo Ren is quite the adrenaline rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is what happens when you go to Dollar Tree and find a Star Wars Stickeractivity book with Kylo Ren on the front cover and a First Order TIE Badge on the back cover. And yes I know I already have loads of projects, I'm sorry!
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Assault with a lightsaber blade; assault with the lightsaber hilt; threats

Sliding out of the cockpit of your assigned TIE to the floor of the hangar bay, your attention was snatched by the sleek new model that had recently arrived after being commissioned by the rather hedonistic Commander Kylo Ren. A spark of jealousy ignited and developed into a burning flame that melted your feet to the spot. Two technicians and the lead engineer assigned to your TIE shifted around you to tend to their duties. Loud chirps echoed alongside metallic clickings. These remained background noises for you, your attention too drawn to the TIE Silencer, as you knew it to be called. Its presence on this base reminded you of the Commander’s current whereabouts. You forced your feet to carry you forward and away from the ship you would have so loved to climb inside.

The many rows of anchored TIEs were blurs in comparison, and the monotonous droning of the droids sweeping along the floor to rid the docking bay of filth echoed the First Order’s existence in the galaxy. It resembled you specifically when one of the superior officers gave a roaring order for the droid to return to its home station and the droid, by response, crashed into walls, fumbling in pitiful attempts to rediscover its place. When you were not in your TIE and among the stars, you were awkwardly restrained by the seemingly foreign confines of gravity. Tethered to an invisible master that you fought to disobey for the thrill of potential punishment. The Commander was not the only thrill-seeking being in the galaxy. In truth, such traits belonged to all TIE pilots with whom you were acquainted.

You drew closer to a workstation and plopped down in the chair beside the officer who was typing away on the console. The droid crashed into the bolted seat, which produced a ring of protest. It ventured away, ever distancing itself from its home base in opposition to properly obeying orders.

A screaming hiss resounded and a red glow illuminated the area. That alone offered a sense of proximity. The droid wailed, its scream a shriek that pierced your soul. You stared at its mangled form with wide eyes though it was not in your best interest to look away from the console you had seated yourself at. The metal corpse was preferable to the organic ones that had recently been created prior to your patrol when the Commander’s ire had been provoked. From the slag heap of mangled parts, there would be those tasked with the responsibility of refashioning the droid into still more canisters that would house the ashes of the lightsaber’s organic victims.

Where did they burn the bodies of the others? The most recent deaths had occurred differently. Commander Kylo Ren had been especially inspired to show his capabilities in the mystical power known as the Force by manipulating the stormtroopers into pointing their blasters at one another. Blaster fire had left the room smelling like smoke. That white armor had not protected those donning it at such close range. Charred flesh had not been a new scent for you. Smoke should have irritated you less, however war and the Commander himself had seen to it that this was not your reality.

A torrential downpour spattered against the windows of the building and past the open door of the hangar bay that began to close. The storm had been looming,the threat of its imminence a constant reminder that you were stationed on a planetary base rather than one of the many warships of the First Order. You had originally believed that you would be caught in it during your patrol. That you had made your return mere minutes before its intensity increased might have been a sign of luck. Yet there was a more powerful threat within these walls. Thunder clapped in time with a popping spark from the droid.

Your limbs jerked at the next roar of thunder. It rumbled in a prolonged purr accentuated by the hum of the red blade. The plasma remained and it was this that had the officer to your right mouthing a prayer to whatever deity or deities he believed. The Commander’s footfalls were greater in volume than the storm outdoors though the droplets were large and hitting the window panes within your view with a force you knew would be uncomfortable to endure. As foolish as it was for you to stare at the sparking corpse, it was worse for anyone to show signs that they believed anyone or anything had power over the being known as Kylo Ren.

The Commander was graced with a yelp of fear and surprise as his leather-clad hand wrapped around the back of the officer’s neck. The size of the limb was something that he used to his advantage. His forefinger and thumb pinched some of the officer’s hair, tugging, yanking back that head. You gulped and remained as still as your trembling body would allow you to. This was a danger unlike any you had faced even when on potentially suicidal missions in your TIE. Kylo Ren turned his lightsaber to the side. The hand rounded the officer, shifting away from his hair. Thumb hooking under his chin. Along his cheek, fingers pinching open the man’s mouth, which had already been parted in a scream of terror that became a gurgle as the ignited crossguard entered the orifice.

“Still your tongue.” Commander Kylo Ren thumbed the switch that cut off the flow of plasma and allowed you to see which had been the red of the blade and what was damaged flesh. You averted your gaze from the mutilations. Sweat trickled down your neck and crawled along your spine. The Commander was near enough to you that you could hear him breathing. Your own helmet had been reflected in his. That your expression was hidden did little to offer you comfort.

While the injured officer slumped forward, unconscious or in shock or dead, Commander Kylo Ren began to transfer his attention elsewhere. The storm outdoors grew in strength. Wind slammed the rain more forcefully on the transparisteel. You traced the haphazardous paths of various drops that merged together in clashes reminiscent of the dogfighting that had taken place three days before. The Resistance or some minor uprising, whichever the case the pilots had sought to destroy this base. They had not counted on Kylo Ren himself appearing for the battle. The scream of the TIE Silencer had inspired cheers to rise through the base. The RZ-2 A-wing interceptor had managed to skirt around the base’s defenses and was nearly upon one of the control towers when the Commander had appeared and eliminated the target.

You had been grounded at the time, your ship downed with a need for repairs that had since been completed.

The price of saving the base and all the First Order personnel within these walls had been the loss of a transaction that had promised to provide details on the whereabouts of Luke Skywalker. Now the skies mourned Kylo Ren's victory and mirrored his anger. The splotches of water merged on their descent. They grew just as the conflagration of the wrecked A-wing had before disappearing from sight.

All around the hangar bar there were those glancing in the direction of the officer at your side only to quickly turn away as Kylo Ren graced their sights as well. He had not budged an inch since transferring his stare onto you. You could see his reflection on the window and, when you happened to look down, on the screen of the console. His lightsaber was angled in your direction where if he should flick the switch again you would be impaled on its blade. He studied your masked face, his gaze burning you in a way that made you want to shrink in your seat. That could very well be all the motivation he required to kill you, however, and so you tensed your muscles and mentally counted.

You had faced death head-on on multiple occasions during the multitude of dogfights you had participated in with Resistance fighters. It was something else entirely to stare it in the face when that countenance belonged to your ally, your Commander. Death by friendly fire--stars, you knew that there were at least three possible deaths that you might have caused due to the chaos of battle. This was a sort of calm storm that siphoned the air from your lungs despite the oxygen that filtered through your mask to help you breathe.

Supreme Leader Snoke had ordered Kylo Ren to remain on this base, locking him as much as you and your coworkers were. Should he leave, the Resistance would attack anew. His appearance to protect the area had in itself revealed that the base housed something of importance. You better understood the Commander’s frustrations when taking this into account. That did not eliminate the apprehension that began to creep through you the longer you were under his scrutiny.

Commander Kylo Ren issued the order for the officer to be taken away. Despite knowing that it was not in your best interest, you did allow yourself to look to your right at the slumped form and searched for signs of life. Two pairs of hands seized onto the officer’s arms, lifting him up and half-carrying, half-dragging him away. Had more care been given, the man would have been placed on a stretcher.

Another clap of thunder preceded the loud thump of your heart. Kylo Ren nudged the badge on your hip with the hilt of his lightsaber. Now that you were no longer in your ship, protocol was to pin it higher to prove your clearance level. Likewise, you should have removed your helmet. The distraction provided by the TIE Silencer could very well be the death of you. You lifted your head, your visor reflected in his as the two of you locked eyes through your helmets. There was a power within him that flooded over you.

You could fly through space at a breakneck speed and with no safety net in your TIE fighter, but it was far more dangerous to have your feet planted firmly on the ground as a Force locked around you like a harness.

You were unable to rise from the seat and properly present yourself to your Commander. He withdrew the cylindrical object from your badge and spoke, his voice warbled and synthesized by the vocoder. “How daring, Spacedust.” You narrowed your eyes behind your helmet. The term was not one of endearment, however you were under the distinct impression that he was not completely degrading you. A threat and a promise. A compliment that you would face Death himself time and again.  _ Spacedust _ was what you TIE pilots used to refer to your comrades who died in a blaze of--you would not say glory; there was little glory in death if the mission failed. The ashes you would be near-instantaneously reduced to would scatter amongst the stars. Nothing more than dust. Useless.

The reasoning for him inspecting your badge eluded you given his preference of assigning you a title. “Sir.” The fear you had been feeling was slowly leaving your veins as adrenaline began to course through you. Danger held an allure that many avoided. You were not one such individual.

“You will call me by my name.”

“It doesn’t matter what name I call out. No one can hear you scream in space.”

The silence of the hangar bay at your words would have been more impressive had thunder not been keen on eliminating it. Your statement had been meant in a generic sense. The usage of  _ you _ , on the other hand, could be construed as a threat. You tilted your head to the side, impressed when he mirrored the action with precise timing. Very few in the hangar bay would understand. The stench of sweat was rising in volume. As were the sharp inhalations of surprise and fear. Only the other pilots had relaxed their stances, the few that you could see in your limited peripheral. The readout on your helmet’s display offered you your own pulse, which was identical to when you were pursuing a Resistance ship. Excitement.

You did not cower when you were afraid; your training entailed that you map out alternative routes and pursue a victory for the First Order. It was not with disrespect that you had spoken to your Commander, and he would be aware that you had not threatened him. An audience of your peers, on the other hand, was awaiting your demise.

The weight of the Force crawled up your body and shoved you to your feet. You worked with it, much as you rolled in your TIE during flight. If you were to be killed there, it would reduce the name he had assigned you to comical irony unless he went out of his way to have your body burned and ashes ejected into space. To do so would be him granting you more importance than he did most. You thought of this while you were made to walk up to him until the pair of you were no more than an inch apart. His helmet threatened to collide with yours. Only  _ he _ could invade another's personal space, never the reverse. You felt your pulse quicken further.

“We aren’t in space.” Each word carefully enunciated and caressing the unspoken promise that he could make you scream.

Your lips worked into a wry grin that you would have loved him to witness. With the Force not pinning your arms, you chanced your luck and lifted your hands towards your helmet. Commander Kylo Ren did not stop you. There was, however, a new pressure on your throat not unlike a hand pressing down. You paused for half a beat then continued. The Force did not increase, did not choke you. Your fingers danced along the latches of your helmet until you could remove it. You hugged the helmet to your hip with one arm. The grin remained, the challenge in your gaze unwavering.

Kylo Ren’s leather gloves gave a thick squeak around the hilt of his weapon when the grip on it tightened. You parted your lips. Offered him another challenge, growing stupid with the high of your adrenaline rush. He could burn your tongue as he had the officer’s. Show everyone present how any form of insubordination would be punished. It was not the hand with the lightsaber that drew closer. His large fingers toyed with the badge clipped to your hip, pinching and working the stubborn metal until it was freed. He thrust the badge between your lips, against them, the hard plastic casing biting into the corners of your mouth. You felt blood bubbling to the surface of the wounds. Felt the sting of the plastic cuts, thin as they were.

“Bite.” You obeyed your Commander without question, baring your teeth by pulling back your lips when you complied. The snarl did not provoke him to worsen the small cuts that would, you knew, give you hell in the days to come whenever you spoke or ate.

Here he raised his other arm and a collection of gasps of horror and surprise flooded the hangar. There were officers who looked away. Technicians who could not bring themselves to. The lightsaber was perpendicular to your mouth. Kylo Ren twisted his wrist to adjust the angle and give a modicum of distance. The screech of the blade igniting made others jump. You did not; in a TIE, to give into surprise would be death. The plasma caressed the edges of your badge. The plastic began to melt, blackening, dripping. It sizzled on the ground, creating what you knew to be a sticky mess. The heat crawled further up the plastic though your Commander did not move his blade. A small flame split into two as it ate away material.

Your gaze was locked onto his visor the entire time. In it you saw your own reflection, your fearlessness. That emboldened you to give a light moan that was rewarded with a burst of static from his mask.

“You will call me by my name,” he repeated.

Pleasure rippled through you at the increased depth of his voice and the threat behind his words. Without releasing the melting, burning badge, you hummed out, “Yisth, Ky-o Urin.”  _ Yes, Kylo Ren. _

His wrist twisted for a second time, the crossguard no longer pointed your way.

“Congratulations are in order, Spacedust.” The purr of the lightsaber disappeared and another round of thunder took up its place. Kylo Ren twirled the hilt of his weapon in his hand and let it land upside down. He jerked his arm sharply to the right. The butt end swiped the remnants of your badge and skimmed the surface of your lips, splitting them, cutting them. Droplets of blood pearled, collected, and meshed together much as the rain had on the window panes. Now they crawled down your face. You tilted back your head, kept your eyes locked on that visor, and ran your tongue slowly along them. Felt the sting, the burn, the threat of numbness. “You are transferred to my command.”

His shoulder collided with yours as he stepped past you. You clutched more tightly to your helmet to prevent it from rolling out of your grip. The pounding of your heart and your increased respirations would not cease while your mind worked to process his words.

“If you aren’t careful, it won’t be just a name.”

_ Spacedust. _ You wondered if he would be capable of using the Force to slow the conflagration of your TIE so that you burned longer. It would not be the Resistance that would catch you and for some reason that made you want to leap into your ship immediately. Not to run away. You wanted him to chase you. You wanted to prove that you could outrun and outmaneuver him.


	2. Exaltation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren senses your thoughts and has you prove yourself worthy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: dubcon; possible blasphemous thoughts/themes

Some pilots arrogantly believed that they were the master of the galaxy because they could fly amongst the stars. They sought to touch godhood. Weightlessness went to their heads. The power of weaponry twisted their minds and built upon the egos that had started to inflate when they had slid into the cockpit of whatever vessel they could. The slang was _fly **boy**_. _Cock_ pit. It was not only the male gender that could claim their wings--although this did vary on the planet in question as to the ease the gender granted--however the focus did remain. TIE pilots had a high mortality rate. It was more dangerous and addicting than spice in many respects yet just as deadly. A quicker death, in fact. The lack of drawn out, long term consequences was a siren’s whisper.

Beeping preceded a whirr, suction, hiss, and then the pattern returned to the beginning. Some gods reigned over life and others chose to favor death. You stood above the bed in medbay staring down at the body of the slumbering officer who teetered between the two. Which god would claim him? That was a question not even the medics, droid and human, could yet answer. The horror that had flooded through the hangar upon witnessing the assault had less of an impact for many after it had been revealed what the man had been praying for. The Force remained a mythical power that most did not understand. What was known or believed by the majority who entertained its existence was that those capable of wielding its power could sense things others could not. This included intention and disturbances. The officer lying prone on the medbay bed had not been the first to pray that Kylo Ren would be humbled or even perish in an upcoming fight. Nor would he be the last. Within the First Order, Kylo Ren was one of the few who had tasted a sort of godhood that others could only dream of. He would never be a god of mercy.

You wondered for another time which god or gods the officer had prayed to, this man who would be incapable of proper speech due to the mutilation of his tongue and teeth. Bacta surrounded his mouth in a way not dissimilar to the salve that had been used on your lips after your promotion. The order for the salve had been submitted by Commander Kylo Ren himself, and it had arrived alongside a new badge. You toyed with the identification badge whilst staring at the wounded officer. An IV fed the saline solution to keep him hydrated. Earlier a droid had injected painkillers through the IV, although as to the exact drug used that remained a mystery.

All these men and their false gods working to own the stars that stretched across the vastness of space. Even this officer, who teetered on the edge of oblivion, ignored the signs that his actions were foolhardy; on each occasion that one shook their fists in defiance of true greatness, it was akin to a child stubbornly rejecting the existence of air. Unseen but felt. Some paid for these foolish endeavors at dismantling the truth of Kylo Ren's power with their lives. This officer had paid with his tongue--and you had paid with your name.

The new identification badge bore the same alphanumeric combination as your previous one, however in place of your birth name was a single word: _Spacedust_. The gluttonous god gave you a taste of his malevolence as a promise to destroy you should you disappoint him. Unlike this officer, however, you had been granted a sign of what you took to be respect: Commander Kylo Ren had not robbed you of your voice, and furthermore had demanded to hear his name with it. As though your tongue was meant to worship him. He demanded praise from you. To deny him was to reject transcension. Your wings would be clipped if you failed to obey this merciless god whose wrath was swift.

You touched your shoulders with arms crossed over your chest in a weak embrace that failed to offer a semblance of warmth. The air in medbay was stale and with a chill. Two blankets covered the injured officer. One of the nurse droids smoothed out wrinkles each time it came by. You touched the edge of the top blanket, once more bunching it together towards the officer’s abdomen. His eyes dashed back and forth behind their lids. You, bent at a sharp angle, peered at his face for signs of consciousness. A single flicker would have captured your breath. Disappointment wafted through you. Straightening, you turned on your heel and headed towards the transparisteel doors that slid in opposite directions from one another to permit you leave.

The transfer into Kylo Ren’s direct command entailed that you left this base when he did. Likewise there would be no climbing into a TIE fighter unless flying alongside him and the others in the unit. As it was, due to Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders, you were grounded. It was enough to drive any pilot crazy, and this offered a glimpse as to why it was Commander Kylo Ren had been wound so tightly since his arrival. His disdain for those lives that kept him anchored to this planet grew until he lashed out against and even killed those when their failures provoked his wrath. Since the incident in the hangar bay, however, the Commander had been like a shadow. Elusive and hardly seen when not looming over others. The rage within him had quieted whilst not disappearing entirely.

Windows stretched across this wing of the base to allow in sunlight that warmed the area. It was a welcomed difference after spending a quarter of an hour at the officer’s bedside. The sight of TIE fighters dancing across the sky as they patrolled caused your heart to skip a beat. Your chest swelled with increased envy for the pilots of those vessels. Previously that would have been you; this was your former rotation, the pilots that had been in your squadron in the skies now without you. You paused in your steps and traced the path that the lead TIE would take with your eyes seconds before the ship followed it. The leader pilot was the same as when you had been in that squadron; a man born from a prodigious family of former Imperials that had served the Empire. Two of his five siblings had perished in service to the First Order. His skills were impressive, and it had been against him that you had always measured yourself as a means of self improvement. You wanted to close the gap that existed between the pair of you.

Memories of the Commander in his TIE Silencer cut through the previous thoughts. You jerked your gaze away from the window, resumed walking, and considered that you would be graced with the new challenge of measuring yourself against _the_ best pilot the First Order had to offer.

Stormtroopers numbered fewer in comparison with the officers on the base. A sea of white prompted you to swerve in favor of seeking the darker colored uniforms wherein you could blend. Standing apart did not fluster you normally. It was the knowledge that somewhere the shadow lurked; to draw his attention before you were ready would offer him the higher ground when your footing was already rocky at best. While not in his presence you could pretend that you retained a name of your own. For years you had worked hard, pushed yourself beyond your limits for recognition by the other pilots on each base that you were assigned to. Each pilot began training in childhood, and most grew up on Star Destroyers. You had been an exception, which was one of the reasons that planetary assignments often came your way. When it came to interacting with First Order personnel, you were kindred spirits with neither the stormtroopers nor the officers.

This was better exemplified when the officers in the sea you had selected to join parted, rippling away and leaving you bare. Though just as replaceable--more easily replaced in your opinion--the officers considered themselves above TIE pilots, whom they viewed as expendable pawns. Such was the paradox, that you were a being they revered and envied due to your capabilities in a TIE simultaneous to being faceless and subhuman. A fictitious hero that sprang to life as a symbol of the First Order’s might, little different than Commander Kylo Ren. He was the anomaly, you supposed. 

A scan of the faces in the parting crowd revealed a mounting fear. You searched for the source of their agitation, which when revealed caused you to cease walking. The shadow had blended into the background for you, though now that you had glimpsed him you wondered how his presence could have gone unnoticed. His power was a dark wave crashing over you. It drowned out your ability to breathe for the seconds it took you to recover after that jolt of surprise upon seeing his masked visage. Tendrils of an unseen force, an indescribable feeling, crawled up your spine. This was not fear, you realized, but something else. The unnamed sensation spurring you into action anew. Your feet began to carry you in the direction of the godlike being that had stripped you of your former life.

“I see your mind has finished its introspective blathering.” There was no recoiling from him though mentally you reeled at the notion that he might have been in your head. Limited knowledge of the Force left you susceptible to minor paranoia. You were aware of Commander Kylo Ren’s abilities to peer into the minds of others during interrogation, however not how he completed this feat. Said man stepped forward and gestured with his hand for you to follow.

It was with amusement that the observation of white and black seas meeting swam into view when the two had the alternative option of allowing Kylo Ren amongst them. The contrast allowed you to discover that they had embraced you, along with other TIE pilots, more than you had given them credit for. Your lips inched upwards in amusement that you swiftly quashed. Commander Kylo Ren carried himself forward in long strides that, while not struggling, took effort on your part to complement. His robes failed to billow behind him as he walked; you understood here that the functionality of his belt was not simply to hold his lightsaber. Regardless, it was astonishing that his feet failed to catch on the stray material given his speed. You trained your eye on the soles of his boots, your gaze interrupted on each occasion the robe swished past.

Familiarity with the base offered the final destination without the Commander needing to verbalize his intentions. Windows appeared with less frequency the nearer to the hangar bay you arrived. Sunlight increased in strength and volume, and you lifted your chin to take in the outdoors that were exposed by the open doors. There was no indication that a storm similar to the one experienced days ago would appear. You turned your head without pausing in your steps as a means of keeping the clear sky in view until it was obscured by the rows of TIEs you passed. Again did the Commander’s feet hold an allure. Your pulse quickened as the robe skipped along the sole. At the final moment, it pulled away and Kylo Ren did not trip on it.

You were led to the secluded section of the hangar bay where pilots not in uniform could change into one of the spare flight suits that was available. There was no further prompting required. You stepped around Commander Kylo Ren when he stopped. His hands were rolling into fists then relaxing in alteration. The leather provided a crunching squeak that you echoed minutes later with your flight gloves. You were careful to ensure the life support gear was fully functional. Exiting the small room, you found your helmeted reflection in Kylo Ren’s visor.

“Hmm.” That grunt was the only sound that escaped either of you and it had come from him. Subsequent to the release of this noise, Commander Kylo Ren lifted his arm and flicked two fingers towards himself. You stared at the back of his hand. Moved only after he did first. The line of TIEs contained predominantly TIE/fo models though it was peppered with the occasional TIE/sf. The Silencer drew the eye. Alongside the sleek, new model was one TIE/fo that you could instantly tell was prepared for flight. “You think you can outmaneuver me.”

It was chilling how perceptive he was. You sucked in air through your nose to limit the noises that escaped you. The difference in size between the TIE/fo and the Silencer hit on a new level as you walked between the two ships in an attempt to rid yourself of the mounting discomfort that had arisen when Kylo Ren had spoken those words. It was nearly triple in size. The TIE/fo ran a length of 6.69 meters in comparison to the 17.43 meters that the Silencer boasted. The access hatch to the Silencer was located behind the seat and led into its cabin. There was no such room in the starships that you had piloted. To outmaneuver this? You at last faltered and thus lost the inner battle that had been waged; you shuddered, knowing all the while that Commander Kylo Ren was tracking your every move.

The proposed challenge had stemmed from his abilities to sense your thoughts, or at least your intentions, on the day that you had lost your name. You rolled your fingers inwards towards your palms, curling them and creating a tight fist. To yield now without making an attempt to prove your capabilities, subpar though they may be in facing this specific task, would further rob you of any respect that you had built in the years you had piloted for the First Order.

“I can last longer than the Resistance pilots you have taken down.” Murmuring these words bolstered your confidence. The confidence that resided in you from every past mission surged forward and flooded your entire being. The spreading warmth enlivened your spirits, a grin crawling across your face. You half twisted to consider your Commander. “Are we leaving atmosphere?” A jolt of apprehension quickly seeped into the mix. Your stomach felt as though it executed a somersault before beginning to settle once more. Commander Kylo Ren gave an almost imperceptible nod.

He was wrapped in a calm mood that prevented the others in the hangar from reacting to his presence as they had mere days before. Yet they were not the ones who would be acting as prey in the vastness of space.

Successfully suppressing a second shudder, you climbed into the cockpit of the TIE that had been prepared for you. You gripped the flight controls with both hands after sealing the access hatch and checking the cockpit display. The readouts confirmed a lack of obstructions in the ship’s path. Powering the starfighter, you looked to your left and observed Kylo Ren climbing into the Silencer. You snorted as you returned your attention to the TIE/fo. The earlier bout of envy was eliminated. The skies opened up after screaming past the open hangar bay doors. You twirled in a loop that was more for relaxation than serving any true purpose. Then obeyed the demands of your superior by aiming for the stars.

In comparison with the TIE/sf models, the TIE/fo was more limited with the distance it could place between itself and its assigned base. You had ample fuel to run this exercise with Kylo Ren, however that was the extent of what would be accomplished before a refuel was necessary. The limited fuel within the starfighter had caught your attention when first you had boarded. The First Order was not going to waste resources, however, and you attributed the fourth of a tank cap on this mission to that.

The TIE could take a beating; its plating assisting in preventing it from breaking apart as you left the atmosphere. Day became a sea of black that was punctuated by an assortment of stars. More often than not you ignored their existence when flying to instead pay heed to whatever target you happened to be pursuing at the time. Until the Commander joined you, however, you took advantage of the calm to scan the heavens. It made you feel small instead of large. The merciless being that had better tasted potential godhood was on his way. Your lips parted. Widened eyes scanned the stars briefly before settling on the sensors of the TIE’s control panel.

A blip on the radar offered a caress of icy tendrils along the back of your neck. The Silencer was closing in more swiftly than any Resistance ship you had ever faced. Gnashing your teeth together in defiance, you increased the pressure on the grip of your flight controls, thrusting them forward to send your TIE through space.

The first laser fire zipped past your viewport too far off the side to have been an accidental miss. A warning shot. Swearing, you jerked to the left, executing a triple spin that had in the past shaken ships off your tail. Not so for the Silencer, which mimicked your moves. Rather than fear, excitement erupted. Its heaviness weighed on your chest, and laughter bubbled up, escaping you in a single bark.

“He’s insane.” You ran your tongue along your lips. Peered through your visor at the scan and glanced up in time to see another blast miss you--this time only because you had moved the TIE. You _had_ outmaneuvered him with that, even if only a little. Pride surged through you; it was the downfall of man more often than not, but you entertained the deadly sin with another laugh and wide grin.

The next shot clipped your wing, causing an alarm to blare at you in acknowledgment of the damage taken. The flashing discontinued when you skipped a gloved hand along the sensor. You had sustained worse in skirmishes with the Resistance.

The TIE Silencer zipped past, its momentum rocking the TIE/fo. You jerked your right hand towards your body without loosening hold on the controls and while keeping your left hand in place. The correction righted the TIE without overcompensation. Goosebumps spread along your flesh under your flight suit. You directed your TIE straight ahead in pursuit of the Commander. Your thumb skimmed the weapons control. The tingling along your spine felt in the hangar returned. It was more potent. You rejected its threat to your nerves and pressed on, your thumb squashing the switch that released a weak blast.

Unsurprisingly, the Silencer avoided the hit with an elegant spin. You witnessed only the first half, much too distracted by Kylo Ren’s return fire to keep your gaze trained his ship. You rolled, however the superiority of the Silencer in comparison with the TIE/fo made itself known. The wing of your ship sustained more damage. This time the flashing red refused to quiet. A second hit rocked you along with your TIE. A third. You growled low in your throat. There was no fourth strike. Soon your TIE registered that its major systems were not compromised. It would not erupt in a ball of flame. The red faded away into blackness. Despite this, you had nevertheless lost the game. Your TIE was dead in space.

“Eject.” The command was warbled by his vocoder and filled with static from the transmission. You glowered at the display on your ship, aware that your TIE was disabled. There were no warning lights to indicate impending doom. “Now or you will die.” He left the connection open so that you could hear the tell-tale sign of him readying to fire. Your pulse quickened, respiration erratic as you listened to him switching to a more powerful weapon. “Now.”

You squeezed closed your eyes whilst submitting to his tyrannical rule; memories of the officer’s oral mutilation cut you to the core as your body was jerked, rocking with the propulsion of ejection. You had heard tales of deaths during ejection from ships. Had witnessed, during your training, mutilations that included loss of limb. Exercises had prompted you to eject from TIEs in both simulations and real ships. You well knew what to expect, which sensations should be experienced. This decelerated pace was not it. Your already irregular heartbeat worsened. Nausea crept through you, bile rising and acid lapping at the lining of your stomach. You were looking downwards--upwards? sideways? it was space, so who could tell?--at the blossoming flames that consumed the wreckage of your TIE.

Had you not ejected, you would have been spacedust. Your mouth was agape as the first gag rocked your entire body. An invisible force that should not have been present in space tugged you towards the side and dragged you away from potential injury. Your breathing soon registered in your ear. It cut through the all-consuming silence of space. The sea of stars amongst which you swam--no, you floated, lost, at the mercy of some powerful being you could not see. Tears sprang into your eyes; this foreign sense of helplessness rocked you to your core. Impaled by insecurity, you opened your mouth to speak only to choke out nonsensical syllables. He could leave you there to die a slow death. Becoming spacedust would have been a mercy.

_Merciless_ , you thought for the millionth time in reference to the Commander.

A sleek shadow crept underneath you. Mind requiring three seconds to process what it was, you gagged around a sob that you had desperately tried to swallow. The gulp was painful as a result. You endured this discomfort similarly to the increased pressure that locked around your limbs and dragged you towards the access hatch of the TIE Silencer. Near enough to reach it, the power relinquished its grip on your arms. You unlatched the belts that had kept you attached to the ejector seat. Your heart hiccuped in your chest, apprehension that he would release you and let you drift off without the seat enveloping you like an all-consuming flame. The burning in your stomach and the pressure on your chest from the worsening panic was causation of your sudden vertigo.

“You’re so afraid.” Commander Kylo Ren’s voice was louder now than it had been before. Decorated by genuine confusion and curiosity, it stilled the roaring inferno as though it was a welcome stream of water that doused all flames. The statement had reminded you of who you were, of the training you had endured since childhood. Why were you afraid when this had always been a possibility--when _worse_ _things_ had been possibilities? This was but a lesson in trust and obedience.

Your hands scrambled to find the latch on the hatch. The trembling in your limbs embarrassed you. This new heat was as unwelcome as the previous. You scowled, eyebrows knitting towards one another. Kylo Ren shifted the grip of the Force onto your hips. Had he not, it would have been excruciatingly awkward to climb into the Silencer after opening the access hatch. He dragged you into his ship as much as you worked your limbs to pull yourself within. Only once you were within were you freed from his invisible touch. This was where your positive gravity pressure boots took over, keeping you anchored to the floor of the Silencer even as Kylo Ren executed a spin in the ship. You could feel your inner organs swooping as he flipped the Silencer.

Commander Kylo Ren did not look over his shoulder though you walked over to him. Your legs were more unsteady than you would have liked. You pressed your lips into a thin line. A fresh wave of frustration rolled forth. The timing of the explosion in comparison with your ejection meant that he had fired before you had hit to be released. Had you failed to obey him, you would have died. Kylo Ren had nearly killed you. You glowered at the back of his head.

“You nearly killed me.” His breathing sounded like static, an indication of amusement that felt like a knife to the abdomen. There was pleasure surrounding it. “Is that how you get off?”

You observed his right hand abandoning the TIE Silencer’s control to land out of sight, presumably in his lap. A step closer. Peering over his shoulder, you saw proof of the sadism in his actions against the decimated TIE. Your breath caught in your throat. Kylo Ren palmed the bulge he had exposed by drawing aside the front of his robes. “Yes.” The single syllable made you swallow the saliva that had gathered in your mouth. Your throat bobbed, feeling thick and full. Commander Kylo Ren bent his fingers. The tips disappeared from your view, hooking around the underside of the tent in his pants. “Perhaps you should thank me for my mercy.” He at long last turned his head, albeit only a fraction. You peered at your own visor in the reflection of his. Neither of you were human here. He was a cruel god of death and you were barely living, a step above spacedust.

The memory of the lightsaber’s crossguard impaling the officer’s mouth presented itself to you. A jolt ran through your body. It started cold at the base of your spine and warmed as it drifted lower. Pooled into a wetness that escaped from your body, which clenched at the thought of the Commander’s power, the power that had refused to give you up to death. You lifted your hands towards your helmet, unfastening it and allowing the vacuum seal to break. If Kylo Ren opened the hatch, you would perish while he would live. Another jolt, this one electrifying your system as it spiderwebbed throughout your limbs. Your fingers were tingling. You wiggled them whilst shuffling forward as best you could, lodging yourself at his side.

You reached for the exposed front of his pants. Leather sliding underneath leather. He momentarily squeezed you, a physical pressure not so unlike the grip you had felt when he had used the Force to anchor you. Biting your bottom lip, you lifted your eyes towards his visor and were struck with how you appeared in that reflection without your helmet.

“Worship me with your mouth, with your tongue.” You observed your own eyes widening as the man behind the mask spoke. The thing that threatened to frighten you most of all was not that he had somehow learned thoughts you had not given voice to; it was the detachment with which he spoke, punctuating just how insignificant he found you to be. You ripped your hand away from him and stood. Your eyes trained on that visor and its cold, unforgiving gaze. “This is how insignificant you are.”

Kylo Ren pushed aside the front of his pants and freed himself. Against your better judgment--more accurately, without thought--you glanced down. From that point on you could not look away. Commander Kylo Ren wrapped his gloved hand around his shaft, the thumb skimming up along the vein as he stroked his pulsating cock. What impressed you was not merely the size of him but his skill as well. The TIE Silencer did not wobble even as Kylo Ren released a shaky breath. The little exposed flesh of his abdomen tightened with his next stroke. You placed your hand on the back of his seat to steady yourself. The warmth situated in your belly grew in intensity. It spread, your inner walls clenching around nothing as Kylo Ren bucked his hips to fuck into his own touch.

Beads of precum were smeared on the reddened head of his cock. His hand paused, lifted, and extended towards your face. The power that had anchored you now gripped your throat like a vice. You were brought to your knees before him, slammed to the floor of the TIE so roughly that your mouth sprang open in a cry of pain that was warbled, muffled by the leather clad fingers slipping towards your throat. You gagged around them. Felt your jaw pop with the intrusion of his large hand, three fingers thrusting back and forth as they gathered your saliva. Drool slipped past them and spilled down your jaw to the floor. Commander Kylo Ren grunted and, his hand lubricated to the desired amount, withdrew.

He masturbated more quickly now, using your spit to slick his cock, moving his hand up and down inch by inch then as swiftly as possible. “Perhaps you aren’t completely useless.” His breathing was uneven, his words shaking as he spoke. The sound of flesh smacking into leather, into the wetness of your spit. You pressed your thighs together. Cursed your body for reaction, the traitor that it was. “Fuck.”

The speed of the TIE Silencer did not compensate for Kylo Ren’s own capabilities. Had you blinked, you would have missed the movement of his hand as it shot towards you. He gripped the back of your head, shoved you down onto his cock, which hit the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion shocked your body. Your limbs jerked, knees hitting the metal of the seat you were made to kneel beside. You grabbed hold of Kylo’s thigh. Your mind barely processed that he was in your mouth when you tasted him. His cum filled your mouth then hit your face as you jerked backwards. That he had not kept his hold on you was, to you, spiteful. He had wanted to observe his hot cum hit your face in streaks. You glared up at the visor that was pointed down.

Temptation to spit his load into his lap faded as he touched the tips of two fingers under your chin. You swallowed. Ran your tongue along your lips, moved your hand to his lap and trailed a single finger up and down his softening length. “You’re an ass.” You tucked him away back into his pants.

Returning to the cabin of the TIE Silencer, you grabbed a spare cloth to clean evidence of your activities. It was difficult to stand straight with the ache that remained between your legs. Suddenly names were inconsequential in comparison with this experience of transcension. To touch the stars and cheat death. To make a powerful being come undone and feel him shudder beneath your tongue. You cupped yourself through your flight suit and stuffed two gloved fingers into your mouth, aware that the leather would taste the same as his. Falling to your knees, you threw back your head and held in reverence the gift you had been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am equal parts nervous and excited for how people feel about this chapter.


	3. Gretchenfrage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your transfer to the Finalizer commences. Socializing with your new squadmates, you are quickly summoned to the Commander's quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: verbal humiliation; semi-blasphemous thoughts (sort of); breath play; power imbalance; some mind control; forced orgasm; dubcon; cum eating; inappropriate use of a lightsaber; inappropriate use of the Force
> 
> There is artwork for this chapter on my instagram.

You traversed the endless hallway while in a state of slumber. The path was paved with stars that twinkled, blinking in and out of sight. The captivating effect this reverie possessed contrasted with the stagnant normalcy that had consumed each waking hour since the experience of floating through the heavens. A tug of consciousness threatened to drag you away from this semblance of peace. You felt your lips part, heard the groan that further pulled you into the waking world.

Thunderclaps grew from warbled background noise into a presence that demanded attention. Opening your eyes had done nothing to eliminate the darkness that pervaded the room. Power had been lost hours ago due to the intensity of the storm. The backup generators did nothing for the barracks; that would have been an unnecessary waste of resources—early on in the base’s existence electricity had been squandered to appease the grumbling officers forced to endure the indignation of bathing and dressing without light. In under a month’s time, however, those in command had reached the conclusion that finances would not be spared for a weather machine on such a temperamental rock that housed but a single First Order base. Left to their own devices, the superior officers had instructed the electricians and engineers to reroute the lines to ensure the main systems ran even in the worst storms.

You breathed through pursed lips while lifting a hand to explore the depth of darkness. A shadow was perceivable at a close distance. It was blurred, not a one of your fingers differentiated from the greater portion. A new rumble of thunder rolled and shook the walls. It summoned various noises of acknowledgment from officers as they were, like you, roused from their sleep. It was the howling of the wind that woke a greater portion of First Order personnel. It was only fitting, you decided, that the planet would offer forth a display of its power on the eve before Kylo Ren’s departure. Before your own farewell, you mused with another elongated exhalation.

Four days had transpired since you had been graced with the experience of floating amongst the stars with the Force as your anchor. Time collapsed in on itself, offering you nothing beyond haunting dreams and a yearning to see the godlike being again. He had, intentionally or not, avoided your presence despite your meager endeavors to search for him in the corridors and the hangar bay. Engineers worked alongside technicians to run routine maintenance on the TIE Silencer. Not a word had been spoken regarding the destroyed TIE that you had ejected from.

Turning over so that you laid on your side, you squinted to peer more deeply into the darkness. This abyss that tethered you. How you would miss it, the sensation of gravity tugging at your body after each flight on your TIE. Artificial gravity could never match the real thing. Nor would the stale air of a Star Destroyer hold the same sweet scents experienced on planet. Any planet at that; each had its own aroma.

You slipped your hand underneath your pillow. The feel of crisp plastic bit into the flesh of your finger. A badge without a name. A number to identify you, a reminder of the trade you had made to serve directly under the Commander. What sort of Faustian bargain the transaction had been, you knew not. You threaded the badge between two fingers then pulled until you were able to set it against your sternum. Three of the pilots that had flown in with Commander Kylo Ren had swept in shortly after the TIE Silencer had returned to the hangar bay. It was they that had led you to the barracks to collect yourself. Though you had wondered, you refused to pose the question aloud: had they, too, been graced with such an experience? The idea that any of them had aroused the Commander summoned icy venom into your veins.

That was the flaw in your character, the harbinger of your downfall; you were not so different than the other pilots who believed that they could ascend into some godlike role when they touched the sky. Though you were content to serve, to be secondary, the notion that your coveted position was easily obtainable by others sent a serpent of loathing into your soul. The absence of Kylo Ren since his gift of transcension inspired an inner coiling that had you equally ready to strike any threat to the place he had reserved for you. You did not want to be left feeling like a stupid little girl plagued with hero worship.

What brought forth the jealousy was that their badges possessed names to accompany the numbers. The alternative of them having offered less than you was that they had gained more—earned Kylo Ren’s respect and regained their names meanwhile you had practically been reduced to tears at the idea of being left to float away in space, abandoned by the Commander after he had forced you to eject from the TIE. It was not that you wanted fame, it was your desire for your existence to have meaning at all.

From the bunk above there was a creak of the mattress as its occupant stretched their limbs upon awakening. Envy ebbed as memory of this specific individual’s face became a mental focus. Grete Velantyn could well be the embodiment of humankind’s capability to live among heavenly beings without noticing the difference between them. It was not a purposeful ignorance, nor one that appeared to insult Commander Kylo Ren. The other pilots in your new squadron refused to contradict Grete when they spoke of the Commander as though Kylo Ren were simply a man. Each of the rest did not mimic the behavior. With the limited interactions you had shared with your fellow squadron members, you had learned that Grete had been assigned to Commander Kylo Ren for the longest. It might well be that they had become disenchanted after a period, or else this had been their natural disposition. The appeal that this would have for Kylo Ren was quite obvious to you; it was not dissimilar to _your_ behavior other than Grete had not challenged the Commander’s authority in the same manner that you had.

Grete appearing had been the catalyst for the transition wherein Kylo Ren had transformed from a mere god into a hybrid that now contained demonic and even devilish attributes. The words _“This is how insignificant you are”_ were a haunting that plagued each waking hour. As your new squadmate failed to tremble in adoration at the knowledge that they flew alongside such a powerful being, you started to wonder if what the Commander sought was not to kill you and turn you into spacedust but instead drain your very soul, corrupt you into the shell of what you had and may have been.

The cool plastic of the badge suddenly possessed quite a bite. You jerked your fingers away from it as you were plagued by an acidic burning in the pit of your stomach. “Grete?” The whisper drew reactions from more than their intended recipient. Shifting bodies, squeaking mattresses. Another roll of thunder that shook the walls—a pathetic power in the face of the Force and those who could wield it. Your squadmate dangled one leg over the side of the bunk. This was followed by a second, those dark shapes little more visible to you than your own hand had been. Their limbs were long, which complemented their long torso. Grete rose to a height that was a mere inch less than Kylo Ren’s own size. Despite this and how uncomfortable it must have been for them to contort their body to better fit on the bottom bunk with you, Grete nestled you between their legs. Their toes stroked the sides of your hips. A gentle caress so unlike how the Force had felt when it had clasped your body as you floated in space.

Their muscles were less defined than those of the Commander, a fact that struck you as you bent your body to allow yourself a proper chance at catching a glimpse of their expression in this abyss that swallowed you bit by bit. To be on this planet had been to be home. Now it was hell. It was the absence of the heavens that you had been permitted to touch by that merciless god, that benevolent devil. You traced the contours that you could make out. Grete was delicate, beguiling. How many had been lulled into a false sense of security by those soft features that offered gentle smiles as Grete fired their weapon. This you had witnessed on the shooting range. It paled in comparison to flying. Awestruck more by your companion than the notion of firing a blaster, you had stood there and openly stared.

Now Grete ensured that their face was near enough to yours that you could whisper. Voice not carrying, you at long last confessed what had transpired between yourself and the Commander in the TIEs, although you omitted the more tantalizing ending wherein you had made him cum. To speak of his arousal would have cheapened the experience. This was your secret. Along with describing the chase, you questioned what the other pilots of your new squadron had given up to gain their positions.

“Some earned their names back. Others never lost them.” You were under the impression that Grete belonged to the latter group. “We earned our places in different ways.” The cryptic answer successfully eliminated some of your fears while worsening others. The idea that Kylo Ren had ever touched another of these pilots rankled on your nerves. Grete touched two fingers to your lips. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“He just feels untouchable behind that mask.” Offering up nothing at all would have warranted more questions from them. The words earned a chuckle. How badly you wanted to chip away at the godlike being’s armor to better understand his power. He had an unfair advantage of having glimpsed your face while his was hidden behind the barrier of his helmet.

The companionable silence that crawled through the room was furthered by the thunder growing more distant. You sat with Grete on the bottom bunk and listened to the subsiding storm.

The Star Destroyer in the planet’s atmosphere was visible when one stood in the hangar bay and gazed upwards. A transport had arrived for those being transferred, you among them. Grete and the other members of Commander Kylo Ren’s squadron climbed into their personal TIE fighters to return to their posts on the _Finalizer_. The Silencer was not absent from the hangar bay when you arrived with your bag of personnel effects in tow. You searched for its pilot to no avail. A call for boarding on the transport rang throughout the area. If you were to miss it, you would forfeit the new position that had been given to you. Not to mention all other punishments that would be meted out. You climbed into the shuttle whilst shoving away thoughts of those you were leaving behind. Faces of previous squadmates flashed before your mind’s eye faster than you could bat them away. You shook your head and closed your eyes, waiting for the transport shuttle to carry you to your new post.

Where a planet could offer storms, the enormity of a Star Destroyer permitted a cacophony of other sounds as personnel haphazardly darted about in attempts to fulfill their duty. Shrieks of metal and droids offered interruptions to the pounding of ships and stomps of stormtroopers. The stale air contained a taste that everyone else appeared immune to. You, however, wrinkled your nose in distaste. It was more potent than the oxygen you were fed while in a TIE. Another contrast was the increased number of TIE/sf models. There were more pilots here than you had seen in quite a number of months. Stars, had it been over a year? The likelihood grounded you as you walked along the floor of the ship.

Grete had met you at the transport along with two stormtroopers that carried your bag. While you had been given a new ID badge, you had not been assigned all necessary clearance cylinders that would permit you access to the areas on the Star Destroyer where your presence would periodically be required. TIE pilots were given quarters assigned close by their respective squadron commanders. They were shared quarters, a practice meant to instill kinship and better understanding of behavior amongst squad members. Commander Kylo Ren’s personal squadron had three separate quarters divided amongst them. This was due in part to there existing, you were learning, a need for various skillsets depending on the mission in question. Grete was one of two other pilots that had flown with all three groupings. They, along with the other such pilot, would be your roommates. This privilege did not escape your notice.

The stroking of your ego held the potential of quickening the arrival of your downfall. You swallowed down your pride as best you could and walked behind the stormtrooper escorts while Grete kept pace next to you. Your other roommate was a pilot that you had yet to meet; it was this that helped to sober you. First impressions went far when one was in a relationship that teetered between camaraderie and rivalry. There had been glares thrown your way from pilots that had not been wearing their helmets. You imagined still more had acted identically without your explicit knowledge.

One of the first locations that you found yourself was in medbay to confirm that your files had been successfully transferred. A physical was scheduled for the following day, standard procedure before a mission at a new post. Along with this you were offered several new flight suits, these carried by one of the stormtroopers. You were outfitted in a uniform to be worn around the _Finalizer_ when not in flight. It complemented your helmet however did not provide the same protection of the other suits; if you ejected while wearing only this, you would perish. The stormtrooper offered to carry the helmet you wore along with the other two that were in his possession, however you waved him away.

The clearance cylinders were fitted onto your uniform after being properly programmed. Throughout this all, only once was your given name used; that had been in medbay on your health file. All others referred to you by your number or the title of your position. It had thus stunned you to see the script on the file despite the normalcy of it. Your fingers had traced each letter with care in a sort of farewell.

Doors parted to permit you entrance as you were given a chance to walk lead as a means of ensuring all was in proper working order. The two stormtroopers then increased their speed to fulfill their task of carrying their loads to the squadron quarters. It was standard procedure for stormtroopers to be given temporary clearance that assisted with such assignments; they were on a timetable and would be punished if they did not check in with their superior on schedule for their next task. They were absent when you and Grete arrived. Your gaze swept along the length of the main room of the quarters. A single refresher was to be shared amongst the three of you while there were closet-sized rooms that housed your respective beds. A three-seater leather couch was in the center of the main room while two cabinets and a bookshelf took up portions of the walls that did not contain the nearly room-length window.

Captivated by the vista of stars, you headed for the transparisteel and touched your gloved hands to its surface. It struck you what this new position meant. The heavens were your home, and you were housed in the durasteel walls of the Star Destroyer that fought to contain the might of the one you were meant to serve.

One of the closet-sized doors was drawn aside. You jerked your gaze in its direction to meet for the first time your second roommate, your other squad member. The man was three inches shorter than Grete yet with a greater width, his muscles bulkier than theirs. He set an arm on the doorframe whilst scowling. “Take off your helmet.” A wisp of red-blonde hair dangled in the center of his forehead as steel-gray eyes bore into your masked visage. You were grateful for the barrier, offering a verbal refusal to take it off. Impressions be damned, there would be no getting into this man’s good graces. “You think you’re better than the others, don’t you? Assigned here immediately.” A derisive snort. “The Commander summoned you. I would not keep him waiting.” His lips crawled into a cruelly gleeful grin.

Grete touched your shoulder to steer you towards the door. You had not yet been shown which of the nearby entrances in the sector would lead you to Kylo Ren’s quarters. In contrast with the sadistic smile of your shared roommate, Grete offered you one that was more genuine and accepting. Neither of you spoke a word until after the door to your quarters resealed.

“Why was there so much animosity there?” You did not mind being disliked, however you did believe that you deserved an explanation for the extent of those feelings.

Grete gave a light laugh. “I was wondering when you would learn. There was an opening in the squadron, that is why you are here. The previous pilot, our old roommate, he was turned into spacedust on the last mission. He was also Lacien’s cousin.” The pieces clicked into place. Kylo Ren’s decisions were wrapped in layers of inhuman cruelty.

Stepping to the side, Grete extended an arm and gestured to the door that would lead you to your Commander. You thanked them then marched forward. Paused at the surface, that simple barrier. The helmet that you wore would give you an advantage within just as it had with Lacien. You placed your identification badge before the scanner. This, along with one of the clearance cylinders, caused the door to part. You stepped into Commander Kylo Ren’s quarters, leaving behind Grete, who you could hear return to your shared quarters.

The walls within these quarters were darker, or else it was a trick of the lighting—perhaps the lack thereof. Its size was comparable to the shared quarters in which Grete and Lacien were likely having a discussion or else ignoring one another. Within there stretched a long counter on the interior wall; above the counter were cabinets with transparisteel covers to allow one to see the contents. You glimpsed several texts that had withered appearances marking their age. Before you could look at the other books or identify what was in the jars and containers within those cupboards, movement in the corner of your vision summoned your attention away.

You instantly became enraptured by the sight of Darth Vader’s broken, melted helmet resting on a pedestal to the Commander’s right. It was placed mere feet away from the bed. All of these were on the opposite side of the room, behind a chair that faced you. “You summoned me, Commander,” you stated. The visor of his helmet lifted a fraction as the use of his title rather than his name.

“You foolishly believe that wearing a mask is what makes one hold more power.” The amusement dripping from his modified voice cut like razors on skin. His boot steps echoed off the walls, transformed into loud stomps that reverberated in your chest and clutched at your heart much like a vise. Commander Kylo Ren lifted his hands to the helmet that had concealed his face from your view for as long as you had known of his existence. The hiss of its release mirrored the air being siphoned from your lungs in anticipation.

He walked with his back to you and as such the first sight you were graced with was the locks of his hair. They appeared feather soft with tufts of curls that were impossibly well kempt for having been in that helmet. It was a testament to his otherworldliness. Kylo Ren relinquished his hold on the mask, which succumbed to the influence of the ship’s artificial gravity and hit the floor with enough force that it was a wonder a dent failed to form.

“Undress for me but leave your boots and helmet on.” The even, dispassionate tone of his words washed over you. It ensnared your mind, beguiled your senses, enraptured your sense of self. The world distorted in bursts of static. Popping, crawling tendrils of darkness inching around the periphery of your vision. Hands touched the front of your uniform, the one that offered less protection when compared with the flight suits worn while in TIEs. This was but an undergarment for you. The heels of those hands pressed underneath your breasts, swiping outwards as they paused in their work to divest you of clothing. Your legs shifted outwards as though of their own accord. It was the correct thing for them to do.

The tendrils assumed white sparks that blurred the sight of Kylo Ren’s soft hair. A tingling at the base of your spine crawled. Water dripped through your spine, sliding down inch by inch; this foreign sensation sending a pulse into your muscles. A buzz traversed your jawline until your lips parted. The hands returned, their heels on your ribs and fingers pointed downwards. Drawing nearer until they met at the fold of your uniform top, which was further parted, opened, exposing your bra and stomach. A fluttering of sensation, of the ability to touch—it was your hands at work. Dark tendrils moving in reverse, they traced the circumference of your eyes behind your helmet. Toyed with the window to your soul despite the covering that should have protected you from this power. Shirtsleeves rolled off of your shoulders and down the lengths of your arms.

The fog in your mind lifted enough for an awareness to spark wherein you registered that your arms drew backwards. Hands unhooked the bra. It joined the shirt on the floor. Another bite of consciousness that licked like a whip. Commander Kylo Ren stepped in the direction of the large leather chair. You tilted back your head, exposing your throat. Black hair fluttered. It framed the equally sharp and soft features of the face that seemed to be carved from stone. The statue of a god immortalized for his beauty. The rigidness of the flesh loosened in unison with the tendrils that puppeteered your mind and focus slipping down towards your hands to resume their previous motions. Kylo Ren’s jaw was in motion, his lips soft. His aquiline nose sparked more recognition that you were no longer quite so thoughtless. Your mind was yours to rule whereas your body remained but a plaything.

There was a spattering of freckles on his face, which he pointed in your direction and allowed his dark eyes—sirens that beckoned you to come drown in their depths—to crawl up and down your body in scrutiny. Kylo Ren unwound the cowl from his shoulders. He deposited this atop the helmet he had previously abandoned averting his gaze. Your hands rolled the material of your pants downwards, thumbs hooking into the sides of your panties and dragging them with. You lowered down into an awkward crouch that permitted you the opportunity to work the clothing around your boots. Stripped down to that footwear and the helmet, you rose; control over your limbs had not been returned, and you wondered if it would ever be.

Commander Kylo Ren held his left hand perpendicular to his chest with its back facing you. He pinched the tip of the glove with the other hand and began to tug. The leather dragged away to reveal soft flesh. The palm of his right hand was pointed your way, allowing you to see the calluses that were proof of his training and commitment to battle. Leather gloves were tossed in the opposite direction of the other discarded articles of his uniform. His lightsaber remained attached to the belt as that, too, was removed. The outer robes and under armour were shed with slow precision. His frame shrank but a fraction of what you believed it would. You briefly considered that you should have known better given that you had seen the size of his cock, a portion of his toned thigh and a glimpse of his abdomen. Layer by layer he rid himself of the clothing that, in truth, concealed his might. He, like you, rolled his pants over his boots. It took little time at all, as though this was not the first time that he had concealed the soles of his feet while baring all else.

His naked body exuded power while your helmet offered you nothing to combat the sudden feeling of inadequacy. The muscles in his arms contracted as he reached towards you. Your limbs were splayed, your feet leaving the ground. Invisible bindings tethered your feet together the next moment, grabbing at your ankles. Your wrists, on the other hand, were used to fully stretch your arms out. Kylo Ren tilted his head to the side to marvel at his handiwork. Seating himself on the chair, he spread his legs and wrapped his right hand around his cock.

“You are nothing. Your helmet offers a meager shield that hides nothing.” His tongue peeked out, the very tip it tracing from one corner of his mouth to the other then disappearing behind a cruel smirk. He crooked his fingers, hooking them a fraction. Your own right hand was freed from its previous restraint to instead be puppeteered by a new string of Force. You were made to cup yourself. Heel of your hand on your pubis. Three fingers bending and sliding along your slit. They tipped into those folds, parting your labia and dragging along your clit before shifting in retreat. A jolt of pleasure coursed through your veins. “I could kill you and it would mean nothing.” Commander Kylo Ren bent his fingers further and you felt a presence on your tongue. The helmet, as he had said, was a nominal shield when you faced him. The girth of the intruding force within your mouth pinned your tongue down before also sliding back towards your throat. It expanded. A second tendril of power, this one pinching your nostrils. You began to panic as your helmet’s sensors informed you of decreased oxygen levels.

He was not a god but the devil himself and you were but his plaything. His control of your hand resumed. Another stroke to your clit, a second jolt of arousal that was intensified with the lack of oxygen in your lungs. Your body screamed with the heat that burned within. A warmth pooled between your legs. Kylo Ren gave his cock a single upwards stroke, the thick head bobbing. He tilted back his head. Stared down his nose at you whilst twisting his wrist enough that a third threat to your air supply gripped your throat. Your mind screamed at your limbs to flail, but your body was not yours to control. A deep groan issued from his lips and a fire ignited in his eyes. It seared your flesh, the strength of his desire.

His cock throbbed in his hand, hardening, becoming more erect. Kylo Ren relented a fraction by releasing the clamp on your nose. The first inhalation felt more akin to a blow. It expanded constricted airways unpleasantly, burning and scraping. Two fingers jerked along your clit before dipping into the wetness that slipped out of you. Your vaginal walls clamped around nothing, gripping more tightly when the clamp returned. Commander Kylo Ren moved his hand upwards along his shaft, palming the head, smearing precum. Though he did not move a muscle in the extended arm or its hand, which had been controlling your actions, you were jerked forward in the air and made to crumple to the ground mere inches from his booted foot. He lowered the arm, setting it on the armrest of the chair while twisting two fingers.

Lying on your back, you spread your legs and ground your pussy against the toe of his boot. Its unyielding leather grew slick with your juices. The grips on your throat, nose, and tongue lessen without fully disappearing. You managed a weak, nearly muted, whimper. There were tears spilling down your cheeks already from the lack of oxygen. Flashes of red. Dark shadows in the corners of your vision that had nothing to do with mind control. With the next twist of his fingers, Kylo Ren manipulated your hips for a second time. You arched your back and pressed your hand against your pubis. Rocked back and forth. Your lips parting, folds opened by that leather. He lifted the front of his foot so that the sole of his boot made contact. You felt a sharp pain when he stepped down. A scream was cut short as again he robbed your ability to breathe. He shook his foot, which sent vibrations through your lower anatomy.

Flesh smacking into flesh echoed off the walls of the sparsely furnished quarters. The readout on your helmet shouted for attention. Your erratic pulse and respirations were elements you were plenty aware of already. Consciousness wavered. Merciful air graced your burning lungs simultaneous to a second jerk of his booted toes. You swiveled your hips then wrapped your legs around his. Used this as leverage to tug yourself nearer. Or, Kylo Ren manipulated you into doing so. Your hands both became busy with your chest. Nipples hardened at the lightest brush of your thumbs. You felt your body reacting more to the pleasure as you were granted a prolonged period of breathing freely. The ridges of his boot’s sole caught along your clit, dragging the nub.

“Ah!” The gasp was one you miserably failed to suppress. Yet you were rewarded for it with an echo in Kylo Ren’s voice, his groan washing along your body and electrifying your veins. You clenched your vaginal walls, eyed his thick cock and decided, plaything or not, you wanted him to use you. Your body undulated against the boot. Eyes glued to his large hand when it once more cupped the head of his erection, rubbing, stroking down the entire length of the shaft. You could remember how it had felt in your mouth. Heavy on your tongue. You swallowed thickly, your abused throat protesting and burning. Coughing, you gagged as still more pleasure was thrust upon you. The Force circled your clit in the opposite direction of his boot’s movements.

Commander Kylo Ren used his middle finger to trace along a prominent vein on the underside of his cock. “You want to cum, don’t you, you filthy thing?” Maxilla and mandible audibly worked against one another. To refrain from begging would demand all available strength. You did not wish to appear weak or to have him deny you pleasure if you did cave. He chuckled in response to your obstinance. The Force returned for another pass, dissecting into twin trails that spiraled, hooking together and drawing apart in waves. You bucked your hips again in time with his foot pressing down, shaking side to side.

Your walls spasmed, clenching and unclenching as your first orgasm was pulled from your body. It grew stronger the moment Kylo Ren twitched his fingers. Breathing was a foreign concept as your nostrils were pinched, tongue downpressed, and throat constricted. You nearly blacked out. Your body trembled, jerking, forced to ride the toe of his boot as Commander Kylo Ren scooped it underneath you, lifting your ass off the ground. Control was returned. It was unexpected and resulted in you growing limp. Kylo Ren kicked your thigh, albeit not enough to leave a long lasting bruise; this one would be light, if at all visible. You lay there gasping for air, the readouts returning to safer levels.

“Clean it without fully removing your helmet.” He graced you with an opportunity to futilelessly reject his command. You squandered this chance, discovering within yourself a mounting excitement. Additional weight seemed to toy with your limbs. This was, you well knew, an effect of the oxygen deprivation you had endured. You rolled onto your side, onto your knees, and crawled forwards. Lifted just one hand to readjust the helmet. With your mouth exposed, you brought the lower half of your face to his boot and flattened your tongue against its cum covered leather. Your body thrummed with delight at the mingled flavors. You clenched upon hearing the sounds of his masturbation resuming. Maker, you wanted to watch him fuck into his own hand.

Instead you puckered your lips prior to noisily slurping the mess you had made. A slap. His hand more forceful on his erection. He mimicked the noises of your mouth, wet and obscene, except where you were drawing the cum into your mouth, he was spitting to help lubricate his cock. There was a shuffling of clothing. You felt a coolness, a cylindrical object with wires and protrusions, skim along the cheek of your ass. The lightsaber hilt parted you, opening your pussy without entering you. Drool dribbled onto the boot, undoing much of the cleaning that had already been accomplished. Again did you run your tongue along the boot’s surface to clean it. Tongue dragging in both your own saliva and your cum, you swallowed repeatedly and savored the tang of his boot. Your shoulders tensed at the sensation of the lightsaber’s crossguard nudging your rear, threatening to penetrate you.

A sudden forward thrust had you straightening, both of your hands on his knees and back rigid. You could not rise to your feet, else you would have. The intrusion was not exactly painful, however there had been no pleasure—not for you. With your helmet sliding back into place over your mouth, Kylo Ren failed to witness your snarl as he locked gazes with your visor. His hand worked his cock, bouncing up and down, smearing his own spit along its full length inch by inch. The lightsaber hilt wobbled, the portion that had started to enter you sliding away. It drifted down then forwards. Caressing your clit. Twisting and running its rigid and loose wires alike along your folds. He could kill you right there if he wanted. With the Force. With his lightsaber. You had not thought to ask him what you would have to offer in return for the generous gift of a release.

“Spacedust.” His term for you rolled off his tongue more passionately than ever he had spoken it while masked. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Sweat crawled along the back of your neck and limbs. “Let me see you touch your cunt for me.” Lightsaber handle settled on your stomach. It shoved you backwards, urging you to lay down before Kylo Ren used the Force to part your legs. You spread them even more widely without requiring any prompting. His pupils dilated. Hand increased its firm grip on his cock.

You slid your fingers into yourself easily with how wet you were. Knew that he was watching them disappear into you. Scissoring motions exposed more of your pussy to him. Kylo Ren’s nose twitched, scrunching slightly as a snarl began to form. It was hunger being painted across his face. Pinky and thumb held apart your outer lips, index and finger finger parting your folds, and you shallowly fucked your middle finger into yourself. It was nothing, hardly a tease. Commander Kylo Ren moved both of his feet, shoving them under your ass. You rested your legs on his thighs, feet on the armrests of his chair. The lightsaber ran upwards. Down. Up once more, lifting off of your flesh and turning. Its crossguards would not penetrate you if the blade was activated—which occurred the very second that hovered above your throat. The sound of it ignited caused your digits to slip, three of them shoving inside of your cunt, which readily clenched around them.

“Do you think such mundane actions are enough? Lying there. Lazy. Commonplace.” Every syllable cut through the fibers of your spirit. Invisible teeth sinking into your flesh and tearing you apart. Ripping muscle and sinew. You eyed the red blade, which began its descent. It paused. Deactivated. “I will fuck you with the blade if you don’t show me what your tight little cunt can do.”

Your eyes were as wide as saucers behind the helmet. Instead of three fingers, you curled four towards one another and worked them into yourself. Kylo Ren cocked his head to the side, his hand giving a single, dispassionate stroke. The head of his cock bobbed, precum beading. You bit down on your bottom lip whilst raising your other hand for the lightsaber. The Commander did not punish you for your boldness. He instead kept track of his weapon, of how you withdrew your fingers to position the crossguard, warm from recent use, at your entrance. Your walls tugged at the metal, welcoming it, wanting more simultaneous to protesting its unyielding coldness. You rocked into the handle, letting the wires tease your sensitive clit. The next jerk of his hand was followed by a second, a third. His throbbing hardness pulsating as he observed you pleasure yourself on his weapon.

“Do you think you could take it into you?”

You shuddered at the idea of working that thick handle into your cunt. “It’s so big.” _Too big,_ your mind supplied while another part of your brain suggested that you could take it.

Kylo Ren’s smirk grew in size. He bounced his dick, and you imagined how it would feel slapping against your pussy. This caused your body to clench around the crossguard in unison with growing wetter, hotter. He summoned you forward with two fingers of his free hand. You withdrew the lightsaber from your cunt though you did not let go of it. Your legs slid off of his. You shakily stood long enough to climb onto his lap. Kylo Ren grabbed hold of your waist with one hand, all the while he pleasured himself, and had you sit so that your cunt brushed with each and every stroke. His knuckles skimmed your folds and clit.

“Are you a coward, Spacedust?” He was a tempter. Rejecting the very notion with an emphatic shake of your head, you were rewarded with another stroke. “You feel wet enough.” His other hand rounded you, settling on your lower back. “Lay back.” Another lesson in trust, in obeying his every command. You refused to fail this test. Reclining, you found yourself embraced by his power. It was a bed of comfort that could not be seen. Perhaps a coffin if you were not careful. “I want to see the tip inside of your tight pussy.” You settled the lightsaber hilt between your legs, aware of how its side was pressed to his cock as well. His shuddering breath was confirmation that he could feel those ridges on his sensitive flesh. A low growl all you required to know that he watched you try to obey him.

One hand spread open your folds, the other manipulating the hilt. It was thick, uncomfortable. Sliding and scraping both. _Just the tip_ , you reminded yourself. It opened you widely and you paused, hoping it was enough. Kylo Ren fucked up into his hand, his thrust jarring you, forcing you to take still more of the lightsaber into your cunt while his knuckles toyed with your clit. He murmured for you to keep it inside of you as he repeated the motion. You trembled, bottom lip quivering. It was not entirely painful, however it was awkward. Uncomfortable. Kylo Ren jerked his cock, slapping it against your filled cunt. Another jolt of pleasure electrified your senses. Your body clenched the weapon, slickening it with the juices of your arousal. He slammed his cock against your pussy again. Once more. The sound echoing in the room. You moaned in delight, wanting him to hear how good he was making you feel. Wanting him to be pleased with your obedience.

A devilish side of you wanted Lacien to hear your moans, for him to realize that you could make Commander Kylo Ren cum. For that irritating man to acknowledge that you were the one to make this—was he a god or a devil?—powerful creature tremble with such pleasure.

As though he could read your mind, Kylo Ren chuckled. Your walls tightened around the lightsaber hilt, cunt beginning to pulse with the threat of a second orgasm. “You would do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?” Your mind worked through his question. “Ah.” Harsh, acknowledging the fight that remained. “I will break you, mold you into what you are meant to be.” His hand quickened its pace, stroking his cock and your clit in quick succession.

You cried out as you came again, this release, like the last, growing in intensity as your breath was stolen. Not by merely the Force either. Kylo Ren’s free hand lunged for your throat and squeezed. His fingers dug into the flesh of your neck. There would be lasting marks here. A bruise the shape of his hand. You rolled your hips forward, inadvertently taking in more of the lightsaber as you sought out his touch. The Commander slapped his cock against your pussy, released himself, tore the lightsaber out of your cunt. If he had not been choking you already, you would have held your breath while waiting for him to enter you. You were left disappointed in unison with receiving a different form of satisfaction. Hot ropes of cum streaked along your lower stomach and cunt in spurts.

A second later you were almost literally discarded. The Force abandoned you. All that kept your head from slamming painfully against the ground was the helmet that you had been ordered to keep on. Despite this meager protection, you felt your neck protest the impact. The sensation of relief that you had felt as a result of your orgasm was gone.

“What the—”

“Still your tongue.” Kylo Ren pinched together his fingers, creating a similar action in your mouth with the Force. Your tongue stilled, unnaturally kept in place. It was impossible to not remember the officer who had endured oral mutilation by the crossguard which presently pressed under the chin of your helmet. The Commander made a wide sweeping gesture that trailed along the expanse of the window. He removed the Force, however you remained silent, obedient. Ever aware that the lightsaber could be ignited on a whim. That your life was ephemeral while he himself, the devilish god that he was, was eternal. “I have offered all of this to you. It is time you pay me for my generosity.”

What did man—what did _you_ —have to offer a god in return for the heavens?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might have minor mistakes and for that I apologize. My brain is exploding.


	4. Fealty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren reflects on your reaction to his proposal while on a mission with his Knights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Kylo's POV; spoilers for Rise of Kylo Ren comic; violence; minor gore; brief mentions of sex

Preoccupations with fear and envy had dissuaded Skywalker from offering proper training; such sentiments had been a burden on his parents wherein both Leia and Han feared his power and rage, while Han Solo was jealous of the Force connection that existed between mother and son. Kylo Ren had learned to embrace the effect he had on others. Using it to his advantage, the majority of First Order personnel refrained from pestering him with idle chatter or mundane news. They were terrified—rightly so, he mused—to deliver reports even when they possessed nothing negative. TIE Pilots, though braver, were rarely foolish enough to challenge him. He had thus been admittedly caught by surprise the moment Spacedust had stood her ground while openly challenging him. Through the Force he had felt that there had been nothing malicious in those actions. It had aroused his interest, luring him to play with her. She had stared unflinchingly into the visor of his helmet as her badge burned, as it cut into her lips and as the plasma blade of his lightsaber crackled. Still all he had sensed from her was curiosity coupled with the desire to prove her worth.

A recent vacancy in his squadron allowed him to issue an immediate transfer. To test if he had made the correct choice, Kylo had permitted her a chance to prove herself. The joy that had rolled off of her when he reached through the Force had been contagious. Hedonistic bordering on suicidal. His intention had been to ensure that she would obey his command without question; had she disobeyed, he would have been again short one squad member. A new toy obliterated, which was preferable to losing his entire squad because of an arrogant pilot in their midst. Or, worse still, to lose to Snoke if his true goal were prematurely revealed. As he had tethered her with the Force, Kylo had discovered in himself a growing desire to play with her. Someone he could chase, someone with whom he did not have to hide the extent of his powers. It was invigorating, momentarily lapsing into a possible pipe dream when he felt from her a new wave of fear. How quickly that was again replaced with her anger.

In the present, he felt a scowl forming on his features as his mind raced through the handful of interactions shared with Spacedust. She reacted well to competition and this should have been sufficient in ensuring that she was not dissuaded from accepting the mission that he had for her. It was perplexing that of all things for her to shy away from, it was the one that should have provided her the greatest thrill and offered her a sense of honor.

Her helmet disappeared from his mind’s eye as Vicrul’s knee hit into his thigh. Kylo shifted his head with an acknowledging grunt of the fact that the Night Buzzard had arrived at its intended destination. Kuruk set the starship down on the planet’s surface without incident though the Night Buzzard remained vocal as it was wont to do. The ship did not rely on stealth; its occupants preferred to drive fear into others in place of remaining incognito. Null Seasta was not impervious to fear, however she was less easily dissuaded from opposing others due to the vast influence she had accumulated over the years. Her death had not yet been sanctioned by the Supreme leader, otherwise Kylo would have been more than pleased to deliver it.

Kylo rose in perfect unison with Vicrul the moment the Night Buzzard touched the earth below and before the ramp had a chance to descend. The phrik scythe was clasped firmly in the Knight’s hand much identically to how Kylo had also retrieved his lightsaber hilt from its normal position on his belt. They could sense the ripples in the Force that revealed the Night Buzzard had served its purpose of arousing attention. Kuruk and Ushar had already been assigned the task of remaining behind to prevent any tampering with their ship. Cardo, Trudgen, and Ap’lek filed out of the Night Buzzard in single file then fanned out behind Vicrul and him. Kylo felt a smirk threatening to form behind his mask. He could feel the bloodlust rolling off of his Knights as they found the various life forms within the Force. The malintent that pooled from their observers merely stoked the flames of their own hunger for a confrontation.

The crackle of his lightsaber igniting sent a flicker of memory running through his mind. 

_“Of all the pilots the First Order has to offer, do you know why I selected you, Spacedust?”_ _Her helmet dipped slowly, nearly hesitantly though it was apprehension she was exuding. A part of her understood him, accepted the reality of her presence in his quarters. It was not for the more carnal game that they had just shared mere moments before. He examined his lightsaber, raising it before his face and turning it on. Spacedust trembled as she beheld the way it tinted his face red. “You aren’t afraid of being burnt._

Kylo split away from Vicrul, the pair moving in opposite directions to dissuade the use of heavier artillery that might have succeeded in injuring the group. This dissection of their numbers allowed Kylo and his Knights to more easily call upon the Force as the line of rudimentary projectiles began their descent. He swiped through the air with his lightsaber, slicing through those he had allowed to come nearer. Null Seasta had never been one to care if she needlessly sacrificed others. It was all for her own amusement. Kylo wondered at the fact that she was, surprisingly, not descended from a Hutt. The first to die was impaled on the end of Vicrul’s blade as the masked warrior foolishly launched themselves out from a hiding spot. Vicrul twisted the shaft of his weapon with his wrist, cutting through sinew and bone to free his weapon of the mangled corpse that sputtered blood.

Red stained the dusty earth, leaking towards the patches of green that were sprinkled with tiny blue flowers. The first death summoned the recklessness of the others, who surged in waves. Kylo ducked easily under the first weapon—a club—aimed at his head. As he did so, he drove the tip of his lightsaber into the abdomen of the unfortunate soul. A single booted kick sent the injured humanoid to the ground like a limp ragdoll. Kylo stopped down on the mouth that had been unleashing a scream, forever silencing the cries of pain. Simultaneously, he gripped the next combatant by the throat with the Force, tugging them and impaling them. This one he cut in two, spinning his blade so that his swing sliced through the neck of the third. There had been fifty fighters from his estimation of concentrated energy in the Force. Vicrul had dispatched two. Cardo, Ap’lek, and Trudgen had each killed one while injuring others. A third for Vicrul.

Again did Kylo find himself basking in the thrill of the moment; a competition. He sensed the nudge in the Force from Vicrul as the Knight looked his way. Kylo caught that masked gaze with his own visor, nodded, and turned away to meet the challenge, to win it. Another flash.

_“So many have already failed.” Her hands curled into fists and her apprehension morphed into frustration that he was being so cryptic rather than spelling out his desire. “Your ashes will join theirs if you do.” Her leg muscles tensed in that moment, as though she were ready to spring. Was this a desire to run away from the challenge, or towards it? He focused harder, immersing himself in the Force to unveil this mystery. Her curiosity was potent. “Snoke will order your death if he discovers what you are doing.”_

_He could not commit to this task himself, nor the ones that would follow. Should the Supreme Leader sense his apprentice’s intentions, he would begin a counterstrike. In order to eventually defeat the manipulative creature that had been serving as his Master, Kylo Ren had to learn more, had to unveil the secrets that were being kept from him. Secrets known by the late Emperor. Secrets that Snoke and the First Order had inherited. They kept them locked away in places that his Knights could not reach. Only a First Order officer or pilot would be capable._

A concussive blast sent rock and dust flying through the air in a congestion of debris. This was another benefit of wearing a helmet, the protection that it offered. Undeterred, Kylo utilized the distraction it had been for one unmasked enemy. He killed the man with ease prior to aiming for a pair that would perish together in a single blow. Null Seasta had to be exceedingly bored to have sent out such young pawns for disposal. Trudgen was not far behind in the challenge. Cardo and Ap’lek had the least amount of kills to their name thus far for this battle, however they had caused the most damage to their surroundings. Vicrul was one death behind, though if parties mortally injured were taken into the tally, he would soon be tied. Baring his teeth behind his mouthpiece, Kylo turned to the grounded enemy and snapped his neck. Vicrul swung around, flipping him off before calling on the Force to kill the next nearest enemy.

_“It is said that Skywalker took Darth Vader’s body to the Forest Moon of Endor and burned it there. Both he and his sister have claimed to have felt Anakin in the Force—a contradiction to other tales of Jedi becoming one with the Force.” Spacedust, unsurprisingly, did not grasp the entirety of his meaning. It was a mouthful, explaining this to one without the Force. Exasperating, and yet a necessity due to the threat of discovery. “There may have been a fissure in the soul of Anakin Skywalker, of Darth Vader. To master both the dark and the light sides of the Force… I need you to investigate this.” Only with the answer could he hope to successfully surpass Snoke when the Supreme Leader had silently made it known that he was not ready to complete Kylo’s training. He never would be either._

_“Why not—” He once more applied pressure to her tongue, stilling it. She required only a moment of reflection before it dawned on her. Spacedust’s understanding hit him with a palpable shriek. Fear, one that he had only briefly felt from her when she had been floating in space after ejecting from her TIE, assaulted her._

_Kylo knew that she had viewed him as a sort of god, a kind of devil. It had instilled in her a devotion that vanished in that moment. He had been rejected before. By Skywalker and all others. By his own parents. He swallowed the anger that threatened to seep through his entire being. Instead he held out a hand to her. “Will you join me, Spacedust?” Placing her on a level closer to his own. Instead of an answer, she had gathered up her clothing. He had allowed her to do so, observing her every move as she left, afraid. A disappointment._

The anger that he had swallowed down in that moment bubbled forth. It sent ripples through the Force. Kylo sensed his Knights reacting, each of them giving him more breadth to include Vicrul, who as a result was sacrificing his chance at victory in the challenge. He laid open his enemies with his blade and crushed more with the Force or else his fist. Breathing heavily, more from rage than exertion, Kylo walked through the gore of the battlefield in the direction he knew Null Seasta was waiting. She would be observing them through surveillance droids and other strategically placed cameras. Snoke had on a previous occasion encouraged Kylo—admonished him for thinking otherwise—to view these encounters as a part of his training.

When at last he conquered the obstacles that stood in his way, that positioned Snoke as being temporarily essential, Null Seasta would perish as well. This thought assisted in calming him. As his mood grew less hostile, Kylo sensed his Knights converging to rejoin him. Ap’lek was now in lead. Vicrul had claimed second in the competition of kills with Trudgen as a close third. They murmured the strategies they had employed and muttered their grievances over having lost the chance to eliminate more of their enemies. Cardo, less involved in the conversation, lingered two feet behind the others.

The overcast sky refused to yield rain as the planet on which he had found Spacedust had been in the habit of doing. The collected moisture instead grew into a dense fog the nearer to the fortress that they drew. Silence encased the Knights of Ren. The ripples in the Force had lessened in animosity. In its stead was an alternative darkness, the malevolence which Kylo was no stranger to. Weaponry failed to power on or target any one of them. Another sign that Null Seasta was watching, had chosen to use Kylo and his Knights of Ren as toys.

Droid and human guards alike maintained their position in silent observation of his men crossing the threshold. They required no guide and one had not been provided in any case. Humans became less distinct, morphing into cyborgs or poor excuses for some the deeper Kylo journeyed. He felt the woman’s glee. Understanding dawned upon him, his suspicions that the cyborgs had surveillance units in their optics. Null Seasta was known to punish those who failed her by removing limbs that were later replaced, never with synth skin.

The level of opulence in Null Seasta’s fortress became gaudy and exaggerated as one left the atrium and entered the great hall. She was not a subtle braggart. Purposefully placed trophies of art—statues and paintings alike, relics of the old Empire and times before even that—were strewn in a manner that for Kylo was reminiscent of vomit. A regurgitation of collections thrust into a single room that could barely contain the plethora of works. At the center was a throne embedded with gems and upon which sat the woman herself.

Hair twisted into an intricate style and framing her face in a manner that others might have found attractive, Null Seasta refused to hide the appraising look she graced each of his Knights with. Her gaze landed on one Knight in particular, her painted lips twisting upwards into a wry grin. “Cardigan,” she purred. Kylo remembered well in those subsequent seconds that he was not the only one who wanted to ignore Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders to leave the woman alive. Trudgen considered Cardo, whose frustration had struck each of them in turn; his bloodlust had spiked worse than when they had first arrived on the planet. It rivaled that of his own, Kylo mused, the one that had prematurely ended the challenge. Null Seasta extended a hand in Cardo’s direction as though she expected him to come forth and worship the limb.

Instead Kylo sensed Cardo turn his attention to him. Ushar had declined to be the orator at this meeting, leaving Cardo to draw the short straw. Null Seasta reveled in the chances she had to toy with the humanoid; though she was unaware of his species, she had easily deduced from his breathing tubes that he was not human during their first meeting. Of all his Knights, only Vicrul considered Null Seasta with something beyond a passing interest or pure loathing. The collection of souls that he harvested to augment his own power translated into curiosity regarding the woman’s work with her cyborgs. It was Vicrul’s actions that had sparked the dawning of realization in Kylo that Darth Vader’s funeral had been, in many respects, contradictory with Skywalker’s teachings of Jedi becoming one with the Force. If a soul could be ripped from its body with the Force, surely severing it in half was a possibility.

Vicrul spared Cardo the indignity of subjugation by slipping Null Seasta’s hand into his own and brushing the pad of his thumb along the backs of her fingers. He dropped the limb whilst stepping backwards. Null Seasta ran her tongue across her lips. A muscle in her face twitched, something she was incapable of concealing. Kylo inwardly thrilled at the sight. “Snoke has accepted your bargain. In exchange for artifact, the Knights of Ren will eliminate your foe.”

That was a greater insult; that he was forced into a position of protecting this woman. Kylo felt his mind wandering once more to Spacedust. She was bold without being impertinent; she was in awe of him and his power. Null Seasta, on the other hand, wanted to be worshipped _by_ him. Cardo curled his hands into fists at his side, the leather of his gloves creaking audibly. It drew a renewed grin from Null Seasta.

“Excellent,” she said, steepling her fingers in front of herself. She had grown her nails since last they had seen her in person. A reminder that she had at one point proposed raking them down his back while he fucked her; not that he had touched her or ever would. His silence at her suggestion had at the time been the catalyst for her seeking affection from his Knights as a means of making him jealous. “Master Ren?”

She wanted him to speak. Kylo tilted his head instead, enough to where his cowl and helmet would not obscure the action from her view. A second facial twitch. Cardo surreptitiously reached out with the Force, brushing along the periphery of his attention to acknowledge the satisfaction he was receiving from Kylo’s resolve. He considered, when the time came, allowing Cardo to kill this woman instead while he sat back and observed. Perhaps he would sit upon her throne while she screamed and wept—Cardo would not show mercy with a quick death.

Oblivious to these considerations, Null Seasta touched two fingers to strands of hair that outlined the side of her face. She twirled the captive pieces while meeting the gaze of his visor. “I forgot that you are limited on words.” She was not wrong, and yet the conflagration of hatred in him was more hungry than ever for her tongue. Kylo had spent what limited patience he had in speaking on Spacedust then his Knights. This woman deserved nothing. Her brow furrowed in faux consternation. Null Seasta waved one of her cyborg creations forward.

The summons brought forth a being that might once have been beautiful by holodrama standards. One eye, the remaining eye, was a deep brown. It landed on his face alongside the dimly lit yellow optic. Her mandible, too, was replaced with durasteel. Cardo was enthralled by the cyborg; it was only natural given his affinity for repairing and designing gear worn by his fellow Knights. As the cyborg warbled out a _madame_ , it coughed; organs, too, were frequent casualties to Null Seasta’s desire to punish others. Vicrul fingered his weapon. The muscles in his shoulders had tensed at the cyborg’s approach. They had each of them sensed it, the flickerings of Force sensitivity that existed in this creature.

“Show them the recording.” Null Seasta clapped her hands together in unison with giving the command. There was no need for this display; Supreme Leader Snoke had been thorough in providing Kylo Ren and his Knights the details of their mission alongside showing the portion of the recording that had been sent to him. It was but another means of attempting to manipulate him into speaking.

The dim light of the yellow optic brightened and turned blue, projecting a hologram that was displayed on the floor between Trudgen and Ap’lek where they could all watch. Instead of paying the recording heed—it was nothing more than the promise of death should Null Seasta refuse to yield a portion of her power to another of the planet’s powers that be—Kylo explored his memory of Spacedust. Her refusal to answer him, to accept his hand, was a fresh wound. It clashed with the desire he had sensed within her to please him. She had been bold in calling him an ass while tucking away his cock.

He shoved that thought quickly aside, the phantom sensation of her touch sending a pulse through his veins. She had made him feel more powerful than he knew himself to be. Through her brashness and hero worship, Spacedust had given him a glimpse of life beyond Snoke. The knowledge that she would have died had she not obeyed him, the very fact that she had to trust him, all of it had been invigorating.

In place of arousal, his hunger was one for blood as he strategically replaced Spacedust’s visage with Null Seasta’s. There would be no mercy for her nor her enemy, who was a thorn in Kylo’s side at present. It was admirable that someone had been bold enough to declare war on her. Yet foolish. He should have taken her by surprise.

_Tai’s neck snapped, causing Kylo’s heart to stutter in surprise. He had known that the young man he had trained with would perish, and yet…_

Ap’lek took a single step in retreat from the hologram, which was in the process of coming to an end. The nearer proximity brushed along Kylo’s consciousness in a way that informed him the other Knights were aware of the shift in focus. Killing Ren had been the precursor to his ascension as Master of the Knights of Ren. Besting Snoke was the next logical step. He wondered how the Knights of Ren would fare against the Praetorian guards that the Supreme Leader kept at his side. Ap’lek set the upper portion of his weapon’s shaft against his shoulder. Its metal tip hit with a resounding _tink_ on the floor.

“He’s not unfamiliar with the Force,” Null Seasta said in the subsequent quietude. A puff of air escaped through his lips. It crackled along his vocoder and offered Null Seasta a small victory. She greedily lapped at it, straightening her posture and pushing her chest forward. Vicrul’s helmet dipped towards her lap instead. Kylo knew that his Knight was imagining slicing up the length of her body. This was a common game for them, to determine how many openings she gave to kill her. This arrogance did offer more than passing entertainment. He and his Knights studied such behavior to later implement the strategies on other foes. Snoke, too, had a habit of giving openings, or pretending to. None were so obvious as what Null Seasta did next by reclining in her throne and tilting back her head to expose her throat. “He knows how to counter it.”

Trudgen set his vibrocleaver at a different angle. “There are other ways to kill a person.” The Knights were growing just as frustrated as he was that Null Seasta was needlessly dragging things out rather than divulging the location of their target. She pinched her lips together. Her desire to be worshipped was mounting.

_She wants us to praise her for discovering the artifact,_ he noted. It was not going to happen.

“It is not only killing him that concerns me,” she began, irritation dripping into her tone. Too bold, viewing herself as superior to the Knights of Ren. “A counterstrike may include going around your enemy. Splitting your forces and killing your target as well as those she sends to protect her.” A scenario he, too, had considered. Kylo had entertained the notion on the way to the planet. Returning for the artifact to find Null Seasta dead. It was one mission failure he would not have been entirely opposed to if not for having to put up with Snoke’s reprimands that would be sure to come. Null Seasta smiled widely. “Perhaps Cardigan can remain here with me.”

Kylo turned his head in perfect timing with Cardo, the pair meeting one another’s stare. If given the command, Cardo would obey. _You’re an ass_ , Spacedust’s voice said. “We’ll take our chances.” A minor victory for the woman, whose face contorted in unadulterated rage at his response. The Knights of Ren did not question his orders while on missions; they were among the few who were not replaceable pawns, and he would give them no reason to change their allegiances.

“You’re an ass.” The words echoed through the chamber as Kylo and his Knights turned to leave in pursuit of their target. 

He paused in his steps. The words sounded better spilling from the lips of his new TIE pilot. Kylo fingered the hilt of his lightsaber as he imagined the delectable sounds Null Seasta would make if he seared her tongue with its blade. That mental image, too, paled in comparison to the sights provided by Spacedust. Her staring defiantly at him as the ID badge burned away, taking her name with it. His lightsaber inside of her as she squirmed on his lap. In that moment he knew he would convince her to join him, even if only to fuck her after he killed Snoke and Null Seasta with the weapon that had been inside of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Cardigan" comment for Cardo stems from kassanovella's discord server.


	5. Periphery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason you did not take his hand, and now you want to give your answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. Life has been a rollercoaster

Cradled within the interior of the closet-sized space that housed your bed, the early eliminations of potential claustrophobia in your childhood sprang back to you. Fear was undesirable in a pilot. To be in an enclosed space came with the job; TIE pilots endured ample training beginning as early as possible. You had been an assiduous student from the start. Where others had audibly cried when pressed into the simulation chambers, you had opted to hold your breath and deny any sound from emitting past your mouth. The bubbled up protests lodged in your throat quickly devolved into light hums that, in time, dissolved further into nothingness. Meanwhile the gallimaufry of noises that flew from your peers when they were made to endure identical conditions stood in juxtaposition to your silence. This had temporarily caused you to wonder if you were the unwanted anomaly. Such ponderings were executed when your superiors transferred you to join a different grouping of students.

All in the First Order were told that the Force was not to be trusted, that the teachings of the Jedi were flawed. These beliefs had been challenged when Kylo Ren had joined the First Order. His entrance sparked rumors that were slowly elaborated on with sprinkled truths. Increasingly you had come to understand that Supreme Leader Snoke and the superior officers of the First Order were not ignorant to the Force so much as that they wanted their soldiers to not tremble in fear over any rumors regarding Skywalker. You had prepared yourself to witness the power of the Force. Kylo Ren had exceeded your expectations.

All of that you could swallow though it had contradicted some of your childhood lessons and beliefs. Initially when Commander Kylo Ren had informed you that Supreme Leader Snoke would be in opposition to the missions he intended to send you on, it had stoked deep-rooted fear. This, too, had been hammered into you since you had been young. You had been trained to be loyal to the First Order. Was this not a betrayal? Yet you could not erase the feelings he instilled in you, could not deny that you did want to please him--Kylo Ren more than Snoke.

Why, then, were you curled on the bed in the closet-tight section of your shared quarters instead of somewhere else? Why had you not taken his hand?

_After a considerable pause, Commander Kylo Ren began to speak again. “Of all the pilots the First Order has to offer, do you know why I selected you, Spacedust?” You slowly dipped your helmet to consider him. The apprehension that had been bubbling in you expanded. The question was one that you could not answer, one that you sincerely hoped he would not demand you to try to reply to. Kylo Ren raised his lightsaber before his exposed face and turned it on. The shriek of activation followed by the low thrumming did not cause you to jump. Nevertheless, you felt your limbs begin to tremble as you examined his now red-tinted face. The plasma’s light caught his eyes, eliminating their natural color. An angry god or a pleased demon; either impression would be an accurate description. “You aren’t afraid of being burnt.”_

_It was a compliment, one that held a greater weight coming from his lips than if it had been spoken by another of your superiors.. This man did not waste time with words. Though you had been in his presence for a limited time, this was a truth that you had quickly come to know._

_“So many have already failed.” You curled your hands into fists, growing frustrated that he was dragging this out, that he was intentionally cryptic. Commander Kylo Ren was watching your every reaction. His eyes roamed along your body. Was he hoping to drink in fear? “Your ashes will join theirs if you do.” The muscles in your legs tensed. You were not afraid, not yet. It was more that you were wondering if the recent death that had left an opening for you to join his squadron had been due to whatever Kylo Ren hoped to assign you. Although, you reasoned, it would not make sense for him to ask you in that case, because that would be more obvious, would it not?_

_His eyes narrowed. Behind your helmet, yours did as well. “Snoke will order your death if he discovers what you are doing.” Could a room spin if it was floating in space? Had the artificial gravity been lifted? Surely this man had not stated in earnest that he was plotting things the Supreme Leader himself would disapprove of. He spoke of treason. “It is said that Skywalker took Darth Vader’s body to the Forest Moon of Endor and burned it there. Both he and his sister have claimed to have felt Anakin in the Force--a contradiction to other tales of Jedi becoming one with the Force.”_

_The inability to successfully process what was being stated possessed a blame that rested with the instructors of the First Order. They had denied the existence of the Force prior to switching to their alternative view that it existed in a lesser capacity than you now knew to be reality. What did it mean to become one with the Force? Clearly it was something that transcended death._

_“There may have been a fissure in the soul of Anakin Skywalker, of Darth Vader. To master both the dark and the light sides of the Force… I need you to investigate this.”_

_Surely he was not asking you to… “Why not--” The Commander applied pressure to your tongue with his mystical powers. It dawned on you that, yes, he_ was _meaning for you to visit locations including Endor. All for the purpose of investigating supernatural powers of the Force._

_Kylo Ren held out a hand to you, his palm face up. You stared at it from behind the mask you still wore. “Will you join me, Spacedust?” He must have been disappointed when you had begun to gather up your clothes instead of answering him, rather than slipping your hand into his. You dressed as quickly as you could, which in that moment was not fast at all. The Commander did not drop his hand to his side. It was there for you to take throughout the minute it took you to redress. Only as you were turning to walk out of his quarters did you see the limb begin its descent back to his side._

Some superstitions were not as easily overcome. The ghosts of Jedi, which meant that some of what the First Order continued to deem false was in actuality truth. Ghosts existed. The Jedi had been capable of obtaining this power. Would Sith be able to? Was there a ghost of Darth Vader? Only recently--within the last five years--had it become public knowledge that Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader had been the same person.

Commander Kylo Ren, something of a god and devil in one human body--this paradoxical being that had claimed your name and loyalty--wished for you to go where the body was burned. What crossed your mind in that moment, as he had held his hand out to you, an act you would never have foreseen, was that you would face the ghost of Darth Vader. Would you die for the First Order? Yes. Would you give your life for Commander Kylo Ren? Without a doubt. Would you stand before a shade that could, for all you knew, rip your soul from your body and enslave you in perpetual, eternal servitude and suffering?

You were terrified of ghosts. One that was capable of wielding the Force, powers identical to what the Commander possessed, was something you needed time to digest the existence of. By the time that you had successfully gathered your bearings and fortified your resolve in order to confront Kylo Ren and offer your response, you had learned that he had been summoned away on a mission. That had been over a full cycle ago. There was no news amongst your new squad to indicate when the Commander would return.

To think that you had dressed in full uniform and stood outside the door to his quarters for a full seven minutes before another of your squadmates had happened by to inform you of Kylo Ren’s departure. You had felt your entire body heat in embarrassment that flowed into agitation. There had been no memo. In all previous squadrons that you had been assigned to, you had not been left to your own devices as you were there. The leader was easily located. Their absence known amongst all members of the squad so as to prevent needless scrambling.

Hands curling into fists, you had turned away from the door to give gratitude to the squad member that had spoken to you only to learn that they had already left. You stood there for another thirty seconds with the weight of feeling like an idiot increased tenfold. The closet-sized space that housed your bed had become a sanctuary to which you banished yourself.

There were twelve starfighters to each squadron within the First Order. The leader of yours was none other than Kylo Ren himself, meaning that you had ten squadmates with which to better acquaint yourself during the Commander’s absence. Lacien had made it known that he had no interest in interacting with you. His introduction failed to be the sole negative experience; he had glowered at you when you reemerged from your bed then spat on your boot. The glob of spit had been filled with mucus. Stars, you did not enjoy the man’s company and had no inclination to change his opinion of you. Grete, on the other hand, held you in high esteem. They proposed that the pair of you train together in hand-to-hand combat--Kylo Ren emphasized the capabilities of his pilots to transcend the bare minimum implemented by the First Order; should he require his squadron to accompany him on missions, the pilots had to be ready for anything.

Of the eight remaining squadmates, Lacien had, unsurprisingly, earned and maintained the loyalty of a fraction of that number. The extent of their respect towards him was displayed in how they snubbed you in a much similar manner to Lacien’s own behavior; informing you of Commander Kylo Ren’s absence had been a lapse that may well have been borne out of a desire to prevent you from knocking needlessly and annoyingly on the door more times. Jaime Ollis, Zem Loor, and Gavin Pash refused to extend proper invitations as well as ignored the on your half-heartedly attempted as a means of easing some of the tension in the training area that Grete had led you to.

The _Finalizer_ boasted a superior training facility compared to those of your previous base. Finances were pooled into resources utilized by the triumvirate of the First Order. While you had heard of this before, this was your first time witnessing it for yourself. The training droids were top of the line. There were more training blasters as well, although you shied away from them due to having had your fill of the shooting range with Grete before. They tapped your shoulder to encourage you elsewhere and led you to an adjoining room where you discovered another female pilot in your squadron. Xei Korra did not have an opinion on Lacien other than acknowledging that they worked together. Her disinterest alleviated unease that may have otherwise descended upon the room had she been smitten with the man in any sense. You preferred that she not _hate_ your roommate regardless of his bitter feelings towards you; that, too, would have bred awkwardness--pre-existing rivalries to compound your own held the potential to blind you with rage.

Feyre Belther and Novia Hart approached you during a lunch break. You had spoken with them while on your previous duty station and they were as cordial now as they had been at that time. Doman Attir and Ro Kystro were not present until the second day of Kylo Ren’s absence. The mission that had left a slot open for you to be assigned to the squadron had seen the pair injured to the extent that First Order physicians had refused to allow them to leave medbay for a set period.

It did not escape your thoughts that you stood apart from these ten members no matter how you became integrated in their daily lives. Commander Kylo Ren had offered you a mission that Supreme Leader Snoke would have you executed for, ergo something you would never mention or even hint at when in Lacien’s presence. Likewise his closer companions would be thrilled to sign your death warrant by snitching. All others were potential allies and likely foes in equivalent odds. It was not something that you would risk; while you would be executed, Kylo Ren would face worse consequences from the Supreme Leader. You shuddered at the very thought of incurring Snoke’s wrath. It was not unlike defying a god to undertake the mission that was expected of you. Knowledge of it alone endangered you.

Stifling a yawn with the back of your hand after showering and dressing in comfortable clothing, you slipped into the closet-sized area that contained your bed. The option to personalize the enclosed space had tempted you for a fleeting second prior to recalling that individuality was a burden as much as it was a gift. Lacien would search for signs of weaknesses in order to torment you. This, too, instilled a further sense of alienation and the beginnings of bitterness. You had come to terms with the sacrifice of your name. Here now you were giving up what semblance of individuality had remained to you, a rare thing indeed in the First Order.

You slid closed the door even as you flopped down onto your back. Slinging your arm over your forehead, you pursed your lips and released a steady exhalation. You were sore, albeit not in a negative fashion, from the hand-to-hand combat training that Grete had led you in. They stood apart from others in the squadron for a reason. Commander Kylo Ren respected skill and hard work, two things that Grete was clearly not lacking. Lacien was the other member of the squadron with superior stats, and it was him that you hoped to surpass. He would be obsolete, you swore to yourself, and Kylo Ren would not regret placing his trust in you. 

A small lamp illuminating the confined space was all that kept you from being trapped in darkness. It had three settings--the brightest was a nuisance, the middle setting one you utilized when dressing, and its dimmest was your preferred and current selection. There was a small cubby underneath the light wherein you had placed a set of datajournals, texts, and a datapad alongside your comlink. Physical training did not comprise the entirety of improvements that were to be made in order for you to properly serve Commander Ren. You, like many pilots in the First Order, remained up to date on various models of TIEs and weaponry. That was not good enough in the opinion of your squadron’s leader. To be more well-versed in what ships the Resistance utilized would allow for proper and personalized strategies during combat based on what you were facing at the time. Also included, which you then reached for with the intention of consuming before you dozed off, were some of Commander Kylo Ren’s rather detailed flight reports.

It was difficult to refrain from imagining the hand that had composed the lines and how it had extended in your direction. The care that had been taken to properly articulate the otherwise mundane incidents in the reports highlighted Kylo Ren’s meticulous tendencies. This served as a catalyst for ruminating on your failure to give him a proper response to his proposition. The lines of blue text blurred together into hallucinations of specters that stared at you. To read between the lines of the reports--he highlighted all areas that could have resulted in system failures, in deaths. Not only for his own ship but those that flew alongside and opposed to him. The ghosts of missions past, those that existed coupled with those that may have had a single factor been altered.

These fictitious apparitions assaulted your resolve to a lesser degree than had the possibility that there existed on the Forest Moon of Endor the ghost of Darth Vader. Regardless, the threat of succumbing to superstition filled you with a sudden sense of shame. This had more to do with your stance to prevent Lacien from besting you in anything than with wishing to prove that you were worthy of Commander Kylo Ren’s consideration. You slipped your finger along the power button on the datapad whereupon you had been reading the report. Downpressing, you shut down the device and shoved it into its slot beside the other electronics. Your hand hit the switch for the lamp during its return. You placed the limb atop your stomach in unison with releasing another heavy breath.

Swallowed by darkness, you slipped into sleep wherein your previous line of thinking morphed into dreams as your subconscious took over. It took more creative liberties than you would have chosen if given the chance. In the dream, you were a ghost amongst your squadmates. Haunting the set of quarters belonging to the squadron, you wailed unheard cries. _Notice me!_ They did not. One by one they turned away. All save for the leader of the squadron. The masked Kylo Ren faced you in full. He raised a hand, pinched two fingers, and you found yourself silenced. _You killed me!_ The accusation wanted to erupt, the bitterness that tethered you to the Star Destroyer amplified. This purgatory, this hell, ensnaring you as you floated through the heavens. The durasteel prison swallowed you. It denied you an existence amongst the stars that you so adored. You could not join your squadmates though neither could you escape them; you existed on their periphery.

You did not jerk awake, however it did feel as though a weight slammed against your chest to rouse you into consciousness. The susurrus of voices wafted from the main section of the shared quarters. Lacien had not once extended the basic civility of maintaining a lower volume when either you or Grete were resting; that was not to say that he increased his voice from a normal tone to yelling. He was simply not one to whisper. One of the speakers revealed themselves to be Grete, who gave their identity away when they grunted in affirmation as response to a question that had been asked of them. There was only one other speaker, you noted as you extended your legs and pressed upwards with the heels of your feet digging into the mattress. The warble of the second speaker’s voice coupled with a static pop, one easily overlooked and not uncommon, unveiled that this was a transmission. Personal or business? The answer determined what etiquette would require. Ignore the mounting curiosity, excuse yourself from the quarters to provide more privacy, or listen, clearance levels be damned.

Leaning against the door to the closet, you placed your ear on its surface. Attempts to pick up key words yielded limited results. The speaker was one you knew that you had heard before, though you could not place the location or locations. Lips puckered forward, you placed your hand beside your ear on the flat surface. Working open the door at a pace that did not cause it to interrupt Grete, you peeked out from the bed and caught sight of the blue-tinted hologram. The medic had been present during your physical on the second day that you had been on the _Finalizer_ ; the shift that you had learned Commander Kylo Ren had been sent away. It was more awkward than if it had been business or family related. You cleared your throat to alert Grete of your presence. They twisted around, dipping their chin in a nod of greeting, and turned back to the medic to inform the individual that they would call back at a later time.

“S-sorry,” you said, gritting your teeth together and ducking your head. Grete offered a shrug. They were generous with their explanation, rather forthcoming as well. The old squadron had originally consisted of eighteen members instead of the normal twelve, however recent failures in physical examinations and tests had resulted in the Commander cutting down the number of pilots under his direct command. There would be a secondary squad that would contain twelve members to be available for rotation if and when pilots of Kylo Ren’s primary squadron were injured or killed. “So the three groupings you would fly with would be back to the standard amount.” Grete confirmed your statement, which assisted you in better understanding why the medic had wished to speak with them. “Is that something that will be discussed with Lacien as well?” Another affirmation.

Grete raised a hand and placed the back of it against their mouth, unsuccessfully working to block an amused grin that had formed. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Did you think I was speaking with Kylo Ren?” You felt your entire body stiffen at the question. Had you thought that? Hoped for that? “You look at his door whenever we head out...and when we come back.”

Here the Commander expected you to be on a stealth mission. Your mood soured at your own failure, at the obviousness of your growing obsession with a man--a god, a devil--that was not present. The one who had turned you into a ghost of your former self. _Not even a shell._ You pressed the tips of your fingers to the rims of your eyes. Given that you were in an adjustment period after transferring to a new squadron and it was commonplace for pilots to exhibit behaviors such as yours, you did not berate yourself for very long. On top of that, Commander Kylo Ren had summoned you to his quarters the first day that you had been on the _Finalizer_. It was obvious that your relationship with him surpassed what the majority would view as standard.

“I am working to adjust. I used to speak with my squadron leader to set goals and compare notes. We were only a rank apart, not like this.” You waved a hand in the air and felt that the gesture was too theatrical. Stuffing the limb down into your lap, you rearranged your limbs and worked to find a more comfortable position to sit in now that things were pointing to a prolonged dialogue. Grete acknowledged your words by mimicking your actions. They turned so that they faced you, stretched their legs and slid their feet on either side of your waist. You bit down on the insides of your cheeks to keep from smiling. That they were comfortable around you prevented you from feeling entirely like a spectre in the squad. “Other than training, I do not know what he expects of me.”

As you spoke the understanding that you were not spinning a fabrication prevented you from harboring guilt. The mission that Kylo Ren had proposed that you undertake and that required your answer when he returned, there was much of it that you remained ignorant to including the end goal. There would be potential ghosts alongside other mystical and supernatural elements that you did not understand. An education on the basics of the Force would be prudent. The Commander was the sole individual you knew within the First Order who could offer such instructions.

Grete’s eyes wandered along your face as though they were searching for a particular sign. What that would be was left a mystery. “You should apply bacta to any bruises.” With a roll of your shoulders, you nodded in compliance while noting that you would follow these instructions once you were ready to be more active. “Your voice has been a little hoarse, if you didn’t notice.” They quirked a single eyebrow to indicate that they _knew_ the reasoning behind this. You felt yourself growing hot at the idea that Grete knew exactly what Kylo Ren had done with you. Not that you hadn’t, you reminded yourself, mentally pleaded and even momentarily prayed that your actions be overheard by Lacien. “It’s better today.” You held in a groan. The sensation of increased pressure on your chest was a temporary nuisance. “It should be back to normal by the time he returns.”

The conviction with which they spoke those words informed you that they had knowledge regarding the mission Kylo Ren was on that the others in the squadron did not. Repetitive indications that the Commander regarded Grete on a different level than your shared squadmates prevented you from feeling entirely isolated. If you were on the periphery of the squad, so too was Grete. You felt yourself dropping your guard around them, albeit in stages and while taking cautionary measures. Along with offering Kylo Ren your response to his request when he did at last return, you hoped to be granted the opportunity to question him regarding Grete. Did this pilot, as you were beginning to suspect, know that Kylo Ren was in pursuit of knowledge outside of what Supreme Leader Snoke wished him to obtain?

_In which case, Grete is keeping tabs on me and likely reporting to the Commander._ Again did you feel heat travel throughout your body. The idea that he thought of you while on missions, that stole your breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo will return next chapter, I promise~


	6. Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When at last Kylo returns, you are able to give him your answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Rough sex; multiple orgasm; oral; inappropriate use of the Force; inappropriate use of a lightsaber; choking/breath play; ankle sex; dirty gloves during sex

Simulations assisted in learning newer models of ships as well as refamiliarizing yourself with such models that you rarely utilized. Resources had been more limited on your previous base, whereas Star Destroyers housed a larger variety and volume of ships. You ignored the stormtrooper transports, considered the Command Shuttle, and paused beside a TIE/sf often. While using the simulation, there was no docking bay for you to commit these acts. Instead you were thrust directly into the cockpit. Usually this meant being alone, however you were currently becoming better acquainted with the TIE/sf. This was the third time you had started the simulation in this cycle alone. The first time had been with Feyre Belther, who preferred to sit as rear gunner and pick off any ships that moved in pursuit. Xe had paired well with Grete when Ro took over as your partner. This second time had seen _you_ take the rear gunner position, and you had been unable to convince her to switch with you. Scowling, you had endured the fact that you were in less control over the piloting functions of the TIE/sf. There was an absence of animosity between you and Ro; despite this, there was a lack of potential friendship according to your assessment of the dynamics.

Within the TIE/sf there were upgrades that demanded notice. A miniaturized hyperdrive eliminated the necessity to depend on a carrier craft for extra-system travel. A squadron of these would best complement Commander Ren’s Silencer when on prolonged missions. Furthermore, the TIE/sf had a shield and improved armor that the majority of starships you had flown lacked. It was with your run with Ro that the tandem ejection seats were utilized. This naturally increased the frustration that had bubbled within you since you strongly believed that your piloting skills would have prevented this occurrence. Which was, you supposed, possibly nothing more than ego on your part.

Ro and Feyre partnered for the third run, meanwhile you paired with Grete. They had offered you the choice for which position to take. It had, surprisingly, caused you pause. Grete was one of the few pilots to have earned your trust and whom you would never object to playing the role of gunner for. Chewing on your bottom lip while mulling over the two options, you weighed the fact that they would have more experience flying a TIE/sf and thus you could learn from them with their undeniably superior skills as a gunner. Their accuracy was not far above yours in terms of overall statistics, yet enough so that you had been making it a point to observe them for tips. While your other two squadmates were running through their simulation, you locked eyes with Grete and asked if you could run both positions--two simulations--in this single training session.

And thus it was the third time in this current cycle alone that the simulation had started up and that you were placed into the cockpit of a TIE/sf. The communications were open between pilots, however all that rumbled through for the time being was the sound of Grete breathing. Stars stretched across all that you could see from outside the starfighter. Temporarily thrust into a reverie that allowed you to reminisce over your flight with Kylo Ren, you heard Grete speak without comprehending what they had said.

“Tired?” they asked when you hummed out a noise to indicate a repetition of their words was necessary. Prior to running simulations, the four of you had utilized a different training area in order to physically exert yourselves. Rather than immediately responding, it was more prudent to scan for enemy ships that might pose a threat. The absence of enemy vessels revealed a system lag in the simulation, which was uncommon but not impossible.

You caught a flicker of movement, ascertained that it was not from an ally, and took action. As you did so, you replied to Grete’s question. “I think it would be best if I ended the session after this run, yes.” You could not fatigue yourself in a way that would render you useless should a true attack from the Resistance occur. There were other forces that conspired against the First Order, including pirates and crime lords. Though you were under Commander Kylo Ren’s direct command, you ultimately were a First Order pilot.

_For now,_ you thought, running through the simulation with Grete. The flight and shooting were both smooth. Partnered together, they and you were like one. Perfectly in sync. _Taking his hand will mean that I put his interests above those of the First Order._ An enemy ship exploded in an inferno that reminded you of a flower in bloom. With the simulation finally kicking into high gear, you were unable to dwell on your thoughts. The action aided in keeping you awake. Once it was completed, you told yourself, you would shower then rest.

Thus it was only natural that within half an hour, you were alone in one of the available refreshers though your squadmates had decided to train for longer. Steam enshrouded the shower stall as you stood under the spray to clean yourself and rid your body of the sweat that had previously enveloped your body. Lathering soap, you released a sigh that had been building ever since you had stripped out of your uniform. Training in a TIE/sf was proving to be a sort of complication. The closer you grew with your squadmates, the more it felt awkward to know that you were willing to, in a way, betray their trust. This had always been a possibility within the First Order. 

Covert missions did, in fact, exist outside of what Kylo Ren had requested. The difference was that those were generally sanctioned by Supreme Leader Snoke. A chill crept through your body, prompting you to shiver as tingles ran along your spine. Heat from the water was incapable of eliminating the cold that spiraled until it clenched around your heart like a fist. You touched a hand over the area on your breast.

With a shake of your head, you began to spread the lathered wash over your flesh, scrubbing at the areas that had collected your perspiration. Your bare feet slid forward on the tile to carry you nearer to the showerhead. You reached your free hand towards it and altered the setting to where the spray had a wider diameter. It felt less like needles pricking your skin, now more akin to the pitter-patter of gentle rain such as what you had experienced on your previous duty station.

A concern that you harbored was that your theory of Grete keeping tabs on you for Kylo Ren was misplaced; you worried that the Commander was searching for a means of eliminating you due to your refusal to answer his request positively. After all, rejecting him outright marked you as a risk to his very existence. You _knew_ that he desired to oppose Supreme Leader Snoke, that you could technically go to the First Order’s leader in an attempt to curry favor and rise in the ranks. That there existed a possibility that you would not be allowed to speak with him of the matter felt like a blow, a punch to your stomach. You wrapped your arms around your midsection in unison with stepping fully under the spray to wash away the soap from your skin.

Your eyes were closed, your lips parted, and you tilted back your head. Felt the gentle droplets caressing your throat. It brought to the forefront of your mind the memory of the Force skimming along your neck. Your hands sought your breasts, palming them, thumbs skimming along your nipples then flicking them back and forth. A thrumming pusled through your body, spreading down towards your cunt, which clenched with desire. You had become aware, in Kylo Ren’s absence, that you could swallow your fear of ghosts and do his bidding. You could serve him in any way that he asked. You trusted him, which was in a way amusing when considering that you had nearly perished the first time that you had flown with him.

Rather than be repulsed by the memory, you felt your lips spreading into a smile. Felt the heat within your body increase--until suddenly it fled instantaneously. The harsh sound of boots stomping entered your hearing range. You drew your hands down away from your breasts. Attempted to remember when shift change was scheduled for. Tried to wrack your brain for when it was that your squadmates would return from their various training exercises. There was something too familiar about the rhythm of the boots though you could not place your finger on it. That, you realized, was what unnerved you about their presence.

Your lips formed around a silent _ah_ as the owner of the footsteps officially entered the refresher. It was with their closer proximity that you recalled where it was you had previously heard them. You held your breath, had your arms at your side, and turned around, ready to face him. A black-gloved hand yanked open the door. Your eyes landed on the visor, on the mask that held a permanently cruel and scrutinizing expression. Your nakedness was of no concern to you; he had taught you well that your state of dress was of no consequence in terms of your position compared with his.

Dirt slipped from the edge of his robes, sullying the ground at his feet more than his boots already had. Your gaze raked along his form. A part of you did wonder if this was nothing more than a specter of your mind, if you had conjured a hallucination based on your exhaustion and desire melding together. “You’ve been looking for me,” the modulated voice rumbled. He tilted his head to the side, inspecting you as though you were a mere bug. When your chest started to feel too tight and dizziness crept into the edges of your consciousness, you realized that Kylo Ren observed you as such because you had ceased breathing. You dragged more air into your lungs; it was moist from the steam of the shower, which was fogging on the helmet Kylo Ren wore. He raised a single hand towards you, the one that he had used to open the door, and you noticed that it, too, was covered in a thin layer of filth.

Should you accept his hand this time, where you had not before, you would dirty yourself. The limbs that you had cleaned sullied by the proof of his commitment to the cause. You reached for him, swallowing thickly as your wet hand met the leather. You stood there waiting for his fingers to curl around your hand, for him to yank you out of the shower, to tug you forward and impale you on his lightsaber or else bash you against the wall. To beat you to a bloody pulp for making him wait. Your fingers quivered, tiny droplets of water that had remained flung forward onto the sleeve of his shirt and the rest of his glove where your smaller hand did not reach.

Gradually he did curl his fingers, beginning with his thumb, and encased your limb in a grasp that was not painful. The absence of a crushing weight was infinitely more heavy, although it was not a burden. It would never be a burden to serve this man. Your eyes widened in exhilaration. Kylo Ren moved forward--not a lurch, it was so graceful, so smooth the way you were pinned to the sidewall of the shower stall. The showerhead perpendicular to your position and his. The back of your hand pinned against the cool tile, and Kylo Ren’s fingers nearly entwined with yours. He was fully robed, a fact that did not escape your notice, and you were naked. Dripping in more than one sense of the word. You pressed your thighs together, smearing the water and slick that ran along them. With his glove nearer to your face, you could smell the ash of battle clinging to its smooth surface. You leaned your head to the side, angling your face so that you could better inhale the scent. His robes and mask, his very presence, maintained that superhuman aura he exuded.

“I did look for you, yes,” you said, admitting aloud and without shame that his words had been correct. Not that he had required any confirmation. “They taught us lies in the Academy about the Force.” He hummed out a _hmm_ of acknowledgement. That was all you required to continue speaking. “I did not want to reject your offer. I wish I would have accepted your hand immediately.” There was no shame in admitting this.

His other hand found your hip, upon which he smeared ash and dirt while creating a trail towards your cunt. Three fingers danced on your flesh, lightly tapping and inching nearer and nearer until Kylo Ren was able to toy with your inner thigh, next your perineum. Skipping past your clit, beyond your entrance. Your eyelids fluttered. Condensation clung to his mask, tiny droplets of moisture growing in size until they slipped down the surface, catching in divots. 

The seam on the very tip of his finger created a delicious sort of friction as he drew it past your outer lips and along the inside of your labia. You could hear the lewd noise of your juices coating the leather. Could feel the drag of its stickiness spreading on your skin along with the dirt he had brought along. Proof that he had come straight for you after his return from the mission that had taken him away. Your heart hammered against your chest at that realization, as it fully sunk in.

The seam teased you a second time, and then he swirled his finger around in circles before plunging one upwards into you. Your legs jerked apart a few inches, his hand creating a wedge that prevented you from pressing your thighs back together if you had wanted to--which you did not. It was causing your heart to soar, this knowledge that he still found you worthy to touch though you had, even as temporary as it had been, spurned him. Kylo Ren curled his finger at the knuckle, bending it towards his body so that he grazed a soft bundle within you that sent electrifying waves of pleasure sparking throughout your entirety. A gasp ripped from your throat, and you threw back your head, hitting it against the hard surface of the wall. Your vision darkened near the edges, red pulsing into your view as pain and pleasure mingled. Your knees buckled yet you did not fall. The Force locked onto your hips, anchoring you in place so that the one wielding its power could do with you as he willed.

The thick digit was joined by a second, which wriggled into you, aided by the slickness pouring from your cunt. The wet leather clung to your skin, skidding, making your body jump. Your abdominal muscles fluttered, clenched. His thumb explored the sensitive flesh between your outer and inner lips before it found your clit. “Why didn’t you?” Shame flushed through you, however you knew in this moment that the truth would spill from your mouth. His very existence compelled you to tell him anything at all he desired to know. Commander Kylo Ren hooked both fingers this time, brushing that same spot, stroking you.

Air caught in your throat, your eyes springing open wide then closing, opening once more. You choked on your words, forgetting how to speak as he toyed with you from within. The name he had assigned you tumbled from his vocoder. “I…” You swallowed, clutched tightly to the hand that had yours pinned, and gasped out your words: “I was terrified of ghosts.” He scissored his fingers, opening you up and inserting a third digit. You peeked at him through your eyelashes and with parted lips. The steam from the shower was lessening as the water cooled. You tightened around those three fingers, purposefully clenching in an attempt to get him to move. To fuck you.

“You can stand there with my saber so close to your mouth…” The way he pronounced that final word, how his visor tilted down towards it in an obvious stare, caused you to run your tongue along your lips. “And yet you fear ghosts?” You nodded, suddenly not ashamed. His tone did not suggest that he was mocking you though it was tinged with mild amusement. “I see.” The languid drag of his fingers beginning to withdraw from your cunt earned a whimper. Your free hand darted for his wrist, seizing hold of it. Though he was physically stronger than you were, your grip did still his movements. He flicked his fingers back and forth, wiggling them inside of you, stimulating your nerves. “Do you think you are in a position to make demands?”

“Make me cum,” you countered, challenging him. The nervousness you had experienced was fleeing as adrenaline and arousal took over. This must have been the high he had felt when he had nearly killed you by firing upon your TIE fighter. Kylo dug his fingers into the spot inside of you that thus far had delivered pleasure--now you gave a yelp of discomfort, your body twitching. He could have easily made it more painful, which was how you knew that his interest had been piqued.

His fingers left your cunt with wet noises, slick running down your thighs again. Commander Kylo Ren raised his hand--still filthy, albeit less so, and dripping with water and your slick--with the palm face upwards. He clawed his fingers as though cupping a ball or some foreign weight. You felt your body rise into the air. Turning his wrist, Kylo transferred the location on which he was holding you to your throat. Digits twitching in pulses, bending then unbending only to bend again, you felt a ticking of pressure on the veins in your neck. Kylo Ren walked backwards. Predatory, observing. Moving his prey along with him.

Your chest rose and fell heavily with each step that he took, with every throb to your throat and cunt. Wetness pooled from you, sliding down your legs and dripping onto the floor. The shower stall disappeared from view. In its stead was the larger room that connected the other stalls with a wider opening in the center that contained a metal table one which to place one’s toiletries while they readied for duty. You gasped at the shock of coolness from the surface as your nakedness met it. Your legs dangled over the edge, and the Force abandoned your neck as Kylo Ren walked forward to join you.

He cupped your ankles in either of his hands, his thumb and middle finger digging into the ball and socket joint on each of them. This sent a tingling sensation shooting through your feet. The thrum was echoed by the pounding of your heart. Kylo Ren peered down at you through his visor. You imagined that his expression was controlled; even if he had removed the helmet, he would have the upper hand. You lowered your own gaze to his limbs to keep from withering under his scrutiny. You were not afraid as much as you were uncertain. Kylo tugged at you without loosening his hold. Your lips parted as a fresh wave of threatened numbness swirled in your feet. You felt yourself clench. He never ceased at discovering new ways to toy with your body.

“Mm.” A soft hum that you almost missed due to the speaker using that same moment to twist your ankles and force you to turn over onto your stomach. He bent your legs, dragged your body until only your torso remained on the surface upon which you had been seated. You propped yourself up with your elbows--or tried to before you realized that it was a futile fight. Defeated, you ran your tongue along your lips and listened to his actions. Felt your knees bending a little further, raising your ankles until they met the front of his pants, through which you could feel his hardened cock twitch. Another clench, your body growing wetter for him as arousal shot through. It was strange how blood could be diverted away from your feet while it pooled towards your cunt.

You twitched your toes to help enliven them. Waited a moment, listening for him to admonish you. Instead you earned the lovely sound of him saying _Spacedust_ in a tone that you could not tell if it was a purred threat or praise. Another twitch of your toes, this time ending in you wiggling them enough to toy with the head of his cock as you bunched up the material that contained it. Kylo Ren transferred both of your ankles into one hand, which momentarily lessened the waves of threatened numbness as he freed his cock. Its underside ran along the soles of your feet. Then his hands returned to their former position. The tingling increased, his grip tighter. The sides of his dick moved just under where his fingers were. He parted those digits, pulling at your skin with middle and forefinger while continuing to press down on the ball of your ankle with his thumb.

It was a painful phantom that touched you--not unlike the Force touches that he so often used. Your toes twitched, allowing more pain and a sudden increase in sensation. Kylo Ren lessened the pressure, rolled his hips. You scrambled to hold onto the edge of the surface so that you were not pulled off of it; knowing him, he would let your face hit the ground as he fucked your ankles. He thrust forward again. This time Kylo dropped hold of your ankles, let your legs swing down. Maybe watched in amusement as the momentum nearly caused you to slip backwards. You would have, too, if he had not pressed forward at that same second.

You were pinned between his body and the metal table. Frustration bubbled upwards as he managed to elicit a whimper. One of simultaneous desire and hurt, the latter of which transformed into a new kind of hunger. The realization that his roughness had a beauty to it, an art, that momentarily stole your breath away. The underside of his shaft ran along the crack of your ass. First upwards then in reverse, the head of his cock meeting your skin and smearing precum. It was his _unleveled_ _breathing_ , elevated by the vocoder in the helmet, that made you clench. You unashamedly let out a whine.

The reward was two gloved hands smearing more dirt and ashes from your breasts to your hips then back. He grabbed your breasts, squeezed them roughly, and jerked his hips forward, his cock sliding between your thighs and teasing your slit. Just as before you had feared he would impale you on his lightsaber, now you wanted nothing more than for him to imaple you on his cock.

Kylo Ren swung you around, a bruising grasp on your left leg hooking the limb against his upper thigh to where your lower lips parted, your slickness smearing against his throbbing cock. You grabbed at his other hand and brought it to your mouth. Teeth descended on the tips of three fingers, biting down on the leather. You teased him with your tongue though he would not be able to feel it. Could taste the remnants of dirt, gritty, and the tang of the leather mingled with your own essence. When he did not demand that you cease nor force you to end your actions, you were emboldened. You dropped one hand down to his cock, wrapped your fingers around it, stroked upwards. Knuckles brushed your cunt, you felt his blood pulsing through his veins.

Biting down harder on the leather, you felt your body alight as he pulled back, exposing his wrist then hand. The glove dangled from your mouth. His bare hand found your throat. His bruising grasp constricted your airway. It made you tighten around the emptiness inside of you, had your hand skipping as you stroked--up, down. Twisting your wrist. The sounds wet as your slick smeared on the entire length of his cock.

A heartbeat pounded in your ears, darkness creeping in the corners of your vision. There was a sense of being pulled out of your own body, of floating--floating that was not unlike when he had lifted you with his power. “Oh, _Kylo!_ ” How you managed to scream his name, you did not know. Your jaw remained slack, open in that _o_ as a sob shook your chest. Your hand did not still in its movements. Kylo’s grasp on your thigh tightened, easing some of the spasms that were wracking your body as you came on his cock. Not in the way that you had hoped to, yet you could not claim to be entirely dissatisfied.

Kylo Ren eased you down onto your knees, seemingly content that your mouth was open and compliant. He thrust inside, both hands on the back of your head. The bare fingers dug into your scalp. You swallowed around his length, toyed with his shaft on your tongue. Fought off any natural reactions that would ruin this moment. Your jaw was stretched so wide it was uncomfortable. There was no time at all to care. Not when he moved one hand away to clasp his lightsaber. Not when he used the Force to hover it so that only the very end of the hilt was on your clit.

He stepped to the side without removing his cock. Kylo turned your head to the side, his weapon visible only in your periphery. Your legs were spread, your heart racing. A flick of his fingers and you screamed in delight as the vibrations of the now-thrumming lightsaber rocked sent jolts of pleasure from your clit throughout your entire body. The crossguards were bright, painting everything in red. If it was not for Kylo Ren holding you, you would have pitched forward as you were brought to another orgasm, this one much stronger than before. The weapon was not removed, the vibrations thrusting upon you a third orgasm.

Kylo grunted, fucking your mouth so that his cock hit the back of your throat. Your screams and moans of pleasure were what he required to cum. You felt him fill your mouth, his spend slipping down your throat as you obediently swallowed without him needing to issue an order. 

Only when he was finished did Kylo Ren deactivate his lightsaber. He walked towards the shower stall in which water continued to pour. Aware that he was cleaning the weapon, you began to shakily rise to your feet, using the edge of the metal table as a handle. The pair of you rearranged yourselves until you were each presentable enough to exit the refresher. Somehow dirt continued to slip off his boots with each step that he took. You stared at them, silently following him towards his quarters.

Doman walked by the pair of you on the way; your squadmate gave a nod of acknowledgment in the Commander’s direction but otherwise did not stop. You noted the change of pace with which he walked as well as the more rigid posture that he assumed. This instilled a renewed impression that you were an anomaly. Though this would apply to Grete as well, you knew, in regards with how they interacted with Kylo Ren. Comforted by the fact that Kylo Ren’s offer still stood, your concerns that Grete was meant to assist in killing you had disappeared, and thus you felt joy in having these shared characteristics with at least one of the other members of the squadron.

Neither you nor Kylo Ren spoke until after the doors to his quarters had closed, sealing you within the walls with him. “I am impressed that you considered Sith spirits to be a possibility.” You flinched at the tone he used. It was again not one that indicated mocking. He was amused, true, however there was a sense that he was genuine in the compliment. This led you to the conclusion that your fears were not unfounded. You were too tired to form an adequate reaction to the revelation. Lips parting, you successfully swallowed what would have been a prolonged _uhh_ had it been allowed to roll off your tongue. “Should you find proof of their existence, bring it to me.”

“Uhhh.” There it was, seeing the light of day as you slumped down into the chair in which he had sat the previous time you had been inside of these quarters. Recovering within seconds, you returned to the other question that had been on your mind. “Is Grete involved? I know you’ve been watching me through them.”

Silence met you by way of response. You sought out Kylo Ren with your eyes, twisting in the chair until you located him two yards behind the chair. He faced you, his body rigid, his legs placed widely apart as though he had been prepared to deflect an attack. You turned away, drawing limbs nearer to your torso and folding yourself into the chair as much as you could. If only you could disappear; for some reason you felt as though you had asked a teacher the dumbest question they had ever heard in multiple years of teaching.

“Null Seasta.” Those two words, that single name, rumbled throughout the room.

You cupped a hand against your jawline whilst absorbing the information. The name was one that you had heard in the past, and you knew that Null Seasta was an ally of sorts with the First Order. Was that where Kylo Ren had gone, or was that where Grete had come from? You sat in silence, hoping that more words be spoken to reveal any amount of information that could be shared.

Instead you were greeted with noise from the opposite direction of where Kylo Ren stood. Nevertheless your inquiry received a proper reply in the form of Grete entering the Commander’s quarters along with three darkly armored individuals that could logically be identified as members of the Knights of Ren. Grime rolled off the cloak of the one that carried with him a Mandalorian executioner axe. A second Knight, whose arm brushed past Grete’s when they filed into the room, possessed a case-hardened pastillion ore helmet. The third and final Knight to have entered Kylo Ren’s quarters wore a helmet that had screen guards on the sides. As with Kylo, Grete did not seem unnerved by the close proximity of the Knights.

Whether Grete was part of the missions that you would be assigned to, you could not yet say for certain. Now, however, you knew that they were one of the few people aboard the Star Destroyer that you could trust after taking Kylo Ren’s hand.

“It’ll be quicker to brief the two of you together,” the pastillion ore helmeted Knight said, his voice easy to listen to. “Ready, Velantyn?” Grete nodded at the sound of their family name then walked towards Kylo’s bed, sitting on its edge. This was not the first time that they had been in these quarters. They were more familiar with them than you were. The Knight transferred his attention onto you. “Let’s hope this one doesn’t die so quickly.”

It must have been a requirement to be a Knight of Ren to be an ass.


	7. Solluna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Knights are suspicious that their Master is catching feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Kylo's POV; very minor gore; slightly flashback heavy

_Stars adorned the high-vaulted ceiling of the temple, wherein painted depictions of the planet’s deities hung on either side of an altar. Tomes and a single lit candle rested in the altar’s center. These objects demanded his attention, drawing his eyes to the surface of the text then the flickering flame that lit its cover. Boot steps echoed off the walls. Patrons of the temple glanced up from their supplications, their prayers interrupted by the intruder. The invitation that had led him to the planet had been extended by the priest presently presiding over the temple’s body. Wild space had much to offer in terms of culture, politics, religion—how it depicted the Force differed from what he himself had been taught or come to understand while under both Skywalker and Snoke’s tutelage._

_During his correspondence with the planet after being handed the mission by the Supreme Leader, Kylo had learned a truth that had altered his view of the Force’s capabilities. The system in which the planet resided contained twin goddesses, one of the sun and one of the moon, that had once ensured balance. He had fought gods before, had killed the Zillo Beast that Vader himself had once failed to eliminate. The sun goddess’s high priest had requested aid from the First Order, from Kylo Ren specifically, to confront the moon goddess._

_Kylo felt his lips threatening to quirk upwards on one side. He fought against the expression though his face remained hidden behind a mask. His gaze abandoned the priest, the altar, and leapt instead in the direction of a specific painting. The sun goddess, dressed in a flowing gown and clasping a weapon not unlike a lightsaber, bowed her head. Below her sprawled both corpses and living beings with their arms uplifted. Kylo Ren supposed that there was a story behind the painting, however it did not much matter to him. His sole interest rested in the weapon; it was this that had caught Vicrul’s eye and prompted the Knight of Ren to encourage Kylo Ren to undertake the mission in full rather than dismiss it as a waste of his time._

_The Knights of Ren filed into the temple behind him. Servants of the holy place pushed closed the doors, which released audible protests that echoed in his ears. Boot steps continued in six distinctive patterns._

_“Null Aeclati has spoken highly of the First Order. Her dreams are prophesy.”_

_“So you have said.” He spoke simply to quiet the high priest, who for whatever reason found it enticing to try his patience with repetitions of useless beliefs. He and his Knights were there to slay the moon goddess, not for a history lesson. That could, if the goddess’s existence was proven true, come later._

_The high priest flicked his gaze amongst the Knights of Ren before he refocused on Kylo Ren. “Seasta will wage war with the planet she had once sworn to protect.” He paused, as though ready to be interrupted for a second time. This information, however, had not previously been elaborated on. It was pertinent to the mission. The unnamed goddess had fallen ill—an intriguing notion, deities vulnerable to the same weaknesses as man—and her twin had since stolen the weapon depicted in the painting._

_In return for his cooperation in slaying the moon goddess and returning the weapon, the sun goddess would bestow upon the First Order a coveted secret, one that Snoke wished to know, and a replica of the weapon._

_Or that would have occurred had Null Aeclati not taken the sun goddess’s life as Kylo and his Knights had slain Seasta. Aeclati had then used an ancient magic to steal the sun goddess’s face, affixing it in place of her own, and granted herself the moon goddess’s name. Thus Null Seasta, worshipped in place of the fallen deities by heretical priests and parishioners, had first gained her position of power._

Snoke continued to admire the mortal woman, refused to allow her death if it could be prevented. She was, he informed the Master of the Knights of Ren, a test for another time. In the meanwhile she had her uses. Vicrul had since taken to studying her; he remained transfixed by the weapon that had nearly been theirs. Stealing the blueprint for the weapon, that would be the first of many missions Spacedust would play a part in once her training was completed. Grete Velantyn did not provoke his Knights into violence, and that was why they had been approached as the first member in Kylo Ren’s team that Snoke could never know about.

They stood at his side, observing alongside him Spacedust dropping to her knees to avoid a strike from Ap’lek. She was unaware that her action had opened her to Vicrul’s attack until his knee collided with the small of her back. Vicrul followed up his attack by seizing hold of her, a hand pressed to her throat. Without it, Spacedust would have slammed into the ground. She clasped at his wrist with trembling hands; her back would be bruised, albeit not severely. The Knights of Ren knew better than to incapacitate her to a degree that their mission would be delayed. An excess of mercy would draw attention.

“If she is pushed past her limits, she will die.” As though Grete understood him, that he required a reminder. Kylo glanced at them, at the passive expression painted across their countenance. There had been one potential candidate that had perished during training with the Knights of Ren. Enthusiasm and bloodlust was too swift a beast when unchained.

Kylo Ren transferred his attention to Spacedust once more, and found that she sacrificed possession of her helmet as a means of wriggling free. Ap’lek struck her with the sole of his boot into her shin. Spacedust braced herself. She dropped into a position that lessened the impact; this stance was one that Grete would have taught her, not standard in First Order training, at least not for TIE pilots. Spacedust struck out—a feint. Her hands wrapped around a discarded weapon. She caught the edge of Ap’lek’s own on it.

_Luck,_ Velantyn mouthed whilst narrowing their eyes in assessment. Their gaze tracked Spacedust as she came into possession of a second blade, enduring another future bruise as tribute to the cause.

Spacedust whipped around, bringing up both of her weapons and slamming them against the blade that Vicrul wielded. Kylo Ren felt heat burn his chest. A hunger, and not of her body, not of sex. He wanted to lunge forward to strike at the individual before him that had managed to catch Vicrul’s attack. Spacedust grit her teeth and flicked her gaze over to him—it was as though she _knew_ of his hunger. Kylo dipped his mask, re-angled his visor to better inspect her sneer. She dropped down to her knees in unison with the moment Vicrul broke through the grip and thrust forward with the weapon. The blade shoved over her head in the air, narrowly missing Ap’lek, who twisted out of the way. This was a dance they had partook in numerous times on the battlefield.

On the opposite side of the training room, the other Knights of Ren shuffled from foot to foot. Kuruk stroked the holstered blaster in his possession. Trudgen gripped his weapon’s hilt and tensed his knees.

All the while, in the room’s center, Spacedust did not yield. Her breath came out unevenly, yet she did not lose her grip on the weapons with which she blocked attacks that would have left still more marks on her body. Kylo Ren’s throat bobbed. The two Knights of Ren had not tired. They were _toying_ with her. Forcing Spacedust to expend her energy, giving her time for realization to dawn on her that she _was_ at their mercy.

She shoved her right hand forward, thrusting Vicrul back a step with her weapon. He growled audibly. Ap’lek grunted by way of response. With a glance over her shoulder, Spacedust repositioned her feet. Despite the muscles visible in her arms, there was a softness to her. She was young, too expressive without her mask.

_She realizes it now,_ Kylo Ren thought with a thrill, a coldness crawling into his veins and along the surface of his flesh. He curled his hand into a fist to keep his arm from extending in her direction.

Spacedust inhaled while taking a step to the left. Her eyes swept along Vicrul before darting to Ap’lek. They each advanced on her in sideways steps, circling in. He would not stop them, nor would Grete despite their words. Ignorance of her own limitations would result in Null Seasta rending Spacedust limb from limb. And in preservation of the secrecy of their mission and his own goals, Kylo Ren would not lift a finger to prevent the foul woman from doing just that.

Spacedust executed a spin, aiming to catch Ap’lek in the back with her second blade as the first met his weapon. He threw up his arm, elbowing the edge of his own weapon whilst dropping down to one knee. Vicrul’s blade deflected Spacedust’s. Grinding her teeth, she swung her leg and caught Ap’lek in the shoulder with the toes of her boot. Vicrul shot out his leg and kicked her other foot out from underneath her. Spacedust allowed her body to achieve an awkward angle, thus preserving her footing to the extent that she did not collapse to the ground. Vicrul once more sought out her throat.

Preoccupied with that limb, Spacedust sustained a different injury that tore a cry of pain from her throat. Ap’lek drove the hilt of his weapon further into her side, twisting it back and forth. Ushar stepped forward. He paused when Kylo Ren jerked his attention to him. Collapsing, Spacedust shoved her weapon into Vicrul, hitting his abdomen mere moments after he cupped her throat in his palm.

_When he returned with the weapon and his Knights of Ren, the high priest greeted them by accepting the weapon and claiming_ her benevolence _would meet him in the throne room. Null Aeclati, wearing the sun goddess’s face, stared at him from that throne. He could sense her in the Force and knew her to be a false queen. The floor ran red with blood as even then those who opposed her rule were made to kneel before her throne. Their arms were bound behind their backs, wrists sewn together and pierced with a stake. Some went into shock. Others were enthralled by the perverse manipulation of the Force, or whatever magic it was she had stolen from the sun goddess, that the woman wielded._

_Null Aeclati lifted a blood coated finger to her mouth and sucked the digit, tracing it with her tongue. The ornate bowl resting on her throne’s armrest held in it three mutilated organs. The eyes of a goddess to grant her clearer visions; the mind of a goddess to give her the deity’s wisdom; and the heart of the goddess to gift her a longer life, as close to immortality as her people knew to seek._

_“There is much_ I _could teach_ you _,” she had said. He kept his tongue still and inspected the countenance as well as how it had altered when placed on her body. The high priest spoke, demanding that he answer to_ Null Seasta _._

_Beside him, Vicrul had stroked the hilt of his weapon lovingly without uttering a word. Yet words were unnecessary between them. This Null Seasta, she had been unable to take the soul of the goddess as Vicrul had been able to do with the true Seasta._

In the present, Spacedust had sustained further damage before at last yielding; she did not request mercy, but had instead opted to curse Vicrul and Ap’lek. Portions of visible flesh had darkened already under the weight of the blows dealt by the Knights of Ren. The remaining four along with Grete converged to join the combatants in the room’s center. Spacedust breathed heavily, a single wheeze escaping. Despite their bloodlust, Vicrul and Ap’lek possessed enough self control that they had been able to pull back at the last second.

He speculated that the allure of the weapon was what stayed Vicrul’s hand. For Ap’lek, his motivations had been different, although Kylo Ren did not know for certain what they were. It hardly mattered. Results were all that he sought, and results he had obtained. Logic, not fear, had influenced Spacedust to end the session. _That_ was what had been desired of her. A swift learner, Kylo mused. There was nevertheless room for improvement if she was to succeed in the missions he required of her.

Velantyn aided Spacedust in rising to her feet while they spoke in hushed tones. They informed her what the Knights of Ren were already privy to, what few in the First Order knew despite an awareness of Null Seasta. That she, along with her heretic priests and those subservient to her, had pilgrimmed to a separate planet unaware of her former identity as Aeclati. It was there that she maintained leadership, there that Kylo Ren and his Knights had been summoned on their most recent mission. Null Seasta toyed with them, taunted them with the knowledge that she held onto the blueprints of the weapon they had once been promised. It was there that Null Seasta had begun her experiments with living beings, transforming them into toys for her amusement.

Spacedust pinched her mouth into a thin line while visibly resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust. Amusement tugged at Kylo, bubbling in his chest before it shot outwards to his fingertips. He furled his hands and looked to Kuruk, who stood meters apart from his fellow Knights. With a surreptitious nod, Kuruk headed for the door and exited the training room. Ushar followed mere seconds later. Cardo would repair any minor damage that had been dealt to Vicrul and Ap’lek’s armor; even then he stepped forward to inspect the weapons that had been used during the mock battle.

Trudgen walked from his former position at the wall to Kylo Ren’s side, all the while adjusting his grip on the hilt of his vibrocleaver. Tension rolled off of him in palpable waves of Force energy, albeit ones that the Knight did not intentionally exude. It would warn prey away. Those not as sensitive to the Force would experience minor symptoms of unease, most often in the form of their body hair standing on end. Kylo reached into that trail of energy permeating the room, unravelling its threads to find where the sharp edges lay. Seeds of doubt, sown at the sight of the TIE pilot, had taken root.

Leaving Spacedust to Velantyn’s care and direction, Kylo headed for the door with an awareness that Trudgen would follow meanwhile Cardo, Vicrul, and Ap’lek would delve into the repairs necessary for their armor. The heavy steps carried a new weight, one that spoke of Trudgen’s discontent with the woman left behind. Trudgen knew better than to undermine Kylo Ren in front of the others, yet Kylo felt a budding interest in learning what caused his doubt to spark.

The door parted open, sliding too slowly for his patience. He pressed his teeth together and narrowed his eyes, his spine straightening. Stormtroopers marched past, their paces quickened the moment they observed Kylo and Trudgen. Fear slipped from them, more potent than Trudgen’s displeasure, and Kylo smirked behind his mask. They exhibited behavior that Spacedust had failed to display on her first meeting.

Kylo felt a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach that would readily grow into a fully ignited flame if he allowed. An increase of ripples in the Force drove away his desire, permitting a different heat chance to blossom.

With each step taken, a decrease in First Order personnel developed. Trudgen’s minimal abilities in the Force gave him enough of an edge that he knew when it was wise to speak. “She’ll be slaughtered.” Kylo Ren turned his visor to the Knight of Ren and peered at him with an increased level of interest. It was a bold statement, and not one that Trudgen would lightly make. “Aeclati abandoned her homeplanet in part to toy with humanoids for her experiments.” Trudgen paused in his steps while shrugging the weight of his vibrocleaver off his shoulders. The blade’s tip hit the durasteel floor with a resounding _clank_. “And your pet cannot mask her expressions well enough.”

Her eyes did, he noted, speak volumes. Kylo kept his fists at his sides, loosening their hold. “Are you so certain she is not the bait?” A hiss of air filtered through Trudgen’s mouthpiece. His head jerked in the direction they had walked from, as though he could peer through the various walls and study Spacedust. “She can survive.”

“So long as Velantyn does not mind the potential loss.”

“They have not failed me yet.” That said, Kylo better understood the doubt festering within Trudgen. Grete’s intrigue in Spacedust was not unique; that did not make it any less dangerous.

Kylo stepped around Trudgen to proceed down a new corridor, his robes swaying against his legs with each foot fall. Footsteps echoed behind him, no less firm than his own. Velantyn had not cared much, on a personal level, for the individual that Spacedust replaced. Sentiment could well lead to the failure of their quest, at which point Null Seasta would have become fully aware of his plans to steal the plans for the weapon rather than wait until she dangled them as a treat, some reward for entertaining more of her whims. The pursuit of knowledge, to learn more how to transcend Supreme Leader Snoke, was a staircase—this was but the next step in his journey.

His slight against her on their recently fulfilled mission would have left her on edge, stewing in anger and seeking ways to deal retribution without repercussions from Supreme Leader Snoke. Slaughtering any that Kylo Ren sent her way would be one such method. Transforming them into her own tools yet another.

If his choice was between losing Spacedust and one of his Knights of Ren, Kylo already had his answer.

In the hours that followed his conversation with Trudgen, Kylo Ren attended a debriefing with Supreme Leader before he sought solace in his quarters. His hand skimmed the surface of Darth Vader’s maimed helmet when he walked past. Conferring with his grandfather’s absent ghost encouraged a growth in his desire to unveil the secrets behind the man’s demise. If his soul had been cleaved in two, if the Dark and the Light had separated, perhaps that was a secret to immortality so coveted by the Sith. Snoke, too, sought methods of preserving himself beyond the need of his broken body.

Outside the walls of his quarters, sounds of his personal squadron echoed. Ollis, Loor, and Pash were the loudest of the bunch. Kylo once more touched the top of Vader’s helmet as he angled his body in the direction of the door. His fingers stretched, their tips pointed at the floor. The stars shining through the expanse of his window were all the light he allowed in the area, and they played games with his shadow, distorting it. Those loud individuals did not irritate Kylo Ren solely due to the nature of the conversation. As was custom, they rearranged their sleeping arrangements to empty two rooms for the Knights of Ren.

A flicker of energy, of being, snagged his attention. Kylo shifted four paces away from the helmet, seeking that familiar presence. It warped into a shade when approached by the spark he recognized as Lacien. Kylo held his breath in anticipation of the clash, the eruption. Instead he was granted the opportunity to _feel_ the two signatures in the Force touch one another more gently.

His abdominal muscles tightened. Each stride carried him to the door, which groaned under the weight of the Force; the sound reverberated in the hall and silenced the pilots, all of which darted to the nearest quarters. The earlier tendrils that had seeped from Trudgen had been insects when compared with the energy that slammed into the walls as he walked past. The ship bellowed in protest, loud enough for Kylo to make a conscious effort to swallow down his irritation.

As with his own door, he used the Force to push open the entry to Velantyn’s quarters. They were seated with a datapad in their hands, likely reading through one of the reports that Kuruk had earlier sent their way. Lacien and Spacedust, meanwhile, sat together on the latter’s bed with the small door to her individual space hanging aside. Lacien’s left hand held her shirt up enough for her ribs, bruised almost entirely, to be exposed for inspection. He worked to apply fresh bacta to the injury.

“You left medbay against the physician’s assessment.” A statement. There was no need to inquire as to whether or not this was fact; Lacien’s behavior with her was loud enough—his deceased cousin had often acted similarly, hence the unsurprising change in behavior that would, Kylo knew, not last when she healed.

Spacedust ran a tongue along her lips, wetting them, catching dried flakes he took to be signs of mal-hydration. “I was informed of an exam I have to pass,” she countered. He stood there in silence. Wasting words was not a pastime he entertained. Spacedust bristled, her disposition prompting Lacien to pull away. He offered a nod of submission to Kylo. A wise choice, that. Spacedust raised her shirt once more, fumbling awkwardly to locate the bacta and smooth it over the surface of her discolored flesh. “The addition of a full second squadron means there is a change in clearance levels necessary to remain in this sector of the ship. I have not held station on a Star Destroyer long enough to warrant an automatic _clear_.”

The words he might have spoken remained dead on his stilled tongue. Kylo Ren pondered over the possibility that Supreme Leader Snoke caught onto his intentions by bringing in Spacedust from her previous post. He thought next of Trudgen’s warning. There were many beings in the universe that would slay Spacedust, torture her, while sparing the puppetmaster pulling her strings.

His anger abated, Kylo Ren did not exit the quarters. There was work to be done, a new training regiment to ensure he had not revealed his hand too soon. The echo of his heartbeat within his ears was amplified by his helmet. He refused to remove the mask, would not show his face to Lacien, whose loyalty to the First Order would remain rewarded though it set him against Kylo Ren’s true wishes.

“When?” He need not elaborate. Spacedust gave the exact time and date of the exam, a mere two cycles away. She had been wise in leaving medbay, where she would not have been given access to material necessary to study.

The cumbersome interferences to his squadron from political maneuvers of First Order superior officers were few between. He could not readily calculate the recovery period for this particular alteration in protocol. Pilots under his command had, in the past, been granted the appropriate clearance levels. The implementation of a second squadron on a permanent basis should not have yielded these changes. An absence of anticipation when it came to such possible obstacles threw a wrench into his plans.

“If you fail?” Though he posed the question to Spacedust, his visor settled on Velantyn. Grete placed their datapad onto the three-seater leather couch that was standard in each of the quarters his squadron members were assigned. They walked across the length of the room until they stood nearly back to back with Kylo.

“Four pilots total are being made to take the exam,” Lacien said when Spacedust did not readily respond to his questioning. Kylo Ren did not face the pilot as he continued, his voice steady, no signs of fear bleeding through. “Should they fail, they will either be sent to the secondary squadron or removed from your command entirely. These changes may be in response to more than the second squadron. There were several redacted portions to the notification we each received.”

“Show me.” His voice was a lance that pierced the calm that might have otherwise existed in the room. Lacien seized hold of a datapad that he had tucked underneath the pillow of his bed. His fingers were fast at work in typing the code to unlock the device, which he passed to Kylo Ren. Kylo thumbed through the message, its wording intentionally obtuse on the portions that were not run through with darkened rectangles. Such segments could have been omitted, emphasizing the feelings of inferiority and unease this message had been meant to instill in its recipients.

He scrolled through the message at an increased quickness in search of the signature at the bottom. Instead of just one, there were three. Their existence supported Lacien’s assessment. Velantyn took the initiative to temporarily leave their quarters prior to returning with the three additional pilots that would undergo the exam.

“You will not fail.” An order. With it spoken, Kylo Ren left the six pilots, four of which would study under Grete and Lacien’s tutelage.

Despite having obtained two rooms in which they would reside, six armored beings awaited his arrival in his personal quarters. Kylo Ren did not spare a glance in any single direction as he sought out the chair, whereupon he sat and settled into a more comfortable position. Vicrul leaned against a wall within his view, arms crossed over his chest and weapon set aside. Only Cardo and Kuruk kept their main weapons on their bodies. The former tinkered with a bit of scrap metal that he would undoubtedly affix to a set of armor once he finished. Kuruk had tucked himself into a corner, away from the five other Knights of Ren.

Ap’lek, nearest to Kuruk, made a gesture that summoned the more solitary Knight closer. They leaned their heads together conspiratorially. Kylo Ren frowned, once more grateful that he donned his helmet and thus concealed his expressions from the others. Ushar observed the pair as well prior to touching the edge of the stand on which Vader’s helmet was displayed.

They were, each of his Knights, sharing a thread of thought; at long last their plotting had been ready to bear fruit only for another delay to occur. Velantyn and Spacedust would have been embarking on their first mission at the designated time of the exam. Though the Knights did not know of the nature of the delay, they could sense his displeasure, which he had sent in waves for them to feel. It was why they had gathered, the reason he did not dismiss them. His reaction to Ap’lek and Kuruk’s exchange was of a different nature.

Kylo Ren settled his gaze on Trudgen, who stood by the bed. It was not only Velantyn’s sentiments that they were questioning. The assumption that he was developing feelings for someone he fucked due to her eligibility for the position in his plot would have been insulting had he not recalled his behavior during his mission with Null Seasta. He had to be prepared to allow her to perish if it became a necessity.

Trudgen smoothed a hand down the length of his torso, brushing away a fraction of the dust collected on his armor. With as few words as possible, Kylo briefed the Knights on the current situation. “Is the third agent at risk?” Trudgen asked, once more dusting his armor so that dirt fell to the floor. Kylo Ren observed its journey with minimal interest. He considered the six pilots that even then were engaged in discussing what materials would be present on the exam. A single nod was all that he offered as an answer.

Vicrul pressed his foot more firmly to the wall, kicking off of it to gain momentum, which he used to approach Kylo. “The window is a small one.” He rolled his neck, releasing audible cracks as the tension in his body was reduced. “If she doesn’t pass the exam, she _will_ be spacedust.” Air puffed out of his vocoder. Bloodlust rolled from each of the Knights, strengthened as irritation and unrest gripped them. Had the eventual mission to Endor been the sole potential casualty, they would have discovered outlets for their anger. Null Seasta, on the other hand, and the weapon she withheld had been a thorn in their side for too long. This latest mission had only added fuel to the fire burning within each of their bodies.

_“Is that how you get off?”_ She had once asked him. Behind his mask, he felt his mouth twitching in amusement. He hungered for the chance to observe her with his Knights of Ren again. Preferably after she _passed_ the exam.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of All Evil I Deem You Capable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25847491) by [clumsycopy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsycopy/pseuds/clumsycopy)




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